


Round and round

by cyanidecity



Category: Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff, Fools in Love, Raylla, Slow Burn, Some angst, no magic, okay actually a lot of angst I think, they're hackers!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:14:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 93,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24660616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyanidecity/pseuds/cyanidecity
Summary: Raelle and Scylla have both suffered from the injustice of the American system. Scylla joined the Spree, and Raelle became a hacker. When Raelle shows up on the Spree's radar, Petra Bellweather sends Scylla, Abigail, and Tally to Fort Salem code school to find and recruit her. But there’s something suspicious about Bellweather -- and something wrong with the Spree. Grappling with the turmoil in the Spree and falling hopelessly in love with Raelle, Scylla is confronted with a set of increasingly difficult choices. When the world she’s carefully constructed begins to crumble around her, can the love she found with Raelle endure?
Relationships: Abigail Bellweather/Libba Swythe, Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn
Comments: 67
Kudos: 190





	1. an0nym0ush0tsh0t? seriously?

**Author's Note:**

> Raelle hates capitalism and Scylla hates authority :)  
> The world is going mad and I'm struggling to make sense of right and wrong! This story is a cathartic way to work through that AND give happy moments/resolution to two useless gay beans that deserve it. Anyways, enjoy!

Save for the hum of fluorescent lights, sporadic typing, and the occasional curse, the room was hushed. Weak light filtered in through basement windows with drawn blinds, illuminating the edge of Scylla’s desk. Around her, a dozen or so other people worked at stations like hers. Some of them, the ones with real skills that Bellweather had brought with her after her break with the NSA, had multiple monitors around them. The best one, Cody, had four. What exactly he was doing that required four screens, Scylla did not know. What she did know, however, was how badly she itched to leave her desk in this grungy, ripe, apartment and run for the hills. Forested hills, preferably. Though Scylla had done a good deal of analytical computer work for the Spree, she’d never had to do it in the oppressive atmosphere of Bellweather’s cyber unit. But until she could find this hacker that Bellweather was so enamored with, this was where she would be stuck. Scylla’s gut roiled with a now-familiar nervous energy. It had been more or less constant ever since the _incident_. She pushed it down as best as she could, twisting a pen around in her hands to try to distract herself. Better yet, she could actually focus on doing the work that was her ticket out of here.

Leaning forward in her decrepit excuse for an office chair, she focused on the screen in front of her. She was looking for a hacker who, according to Cody and the other nerds, was apparently too good to trace. The only way Bellweather knew about them at all was through her connections to investigative journalism. That led Scylla to her first – and only – clue as to how to go about finding this hacker. Though she shuddered to think about how exactly Bellweather had gotten this information, Scylla knew that a former investigative journalist admitted to anonymously corresponding with a hacker with a stupid username some time in 2013. Anonymous_hotshot, or something like that. Unfortunately for Scylla, that was apparently as deep into detail as he’d ever gone. No mention of which platform, of his own username or account, or anything else more substantive. Thus, the painstaking 30+ hours Scylla had now spent combing archives of dated online chatrooms searching for a username like the one described. It was brutal.

As if the work itself wasn’t bad enough, it was made worse by the fact that she had to do it in the same space as miss High and Mighty herself, Abigail Bellweather. She was just two stations away from her, sitting ramrod straight in her chair as she read something. As though she could feel Scylla’s eyes on her, she looked in Scylla’s direction. When their eyes met, Abigail just sneered and shook her head before continuing to ignore Scylla completely. The pen in Scylla’s hand bent as she gripped it in her fist, fighting hard to quell the rage threatening to rear its ugly head. Instead of bolting up to wrench Abigail to the ground by her neck like she wanted, she just tapped the pen in her hand against her expressionless face. _Focus._ The sooner she found something, the sooner she could get this all over with. _Get this all over with._ The thought echoed in her head, reigniting the sense of dread heavy in her gut. The idea resonated with her in a way she wasn’t sure she was ready to reckon with.

If she could prove herself again with this new recruit, maybe she could get out of recruitment altogether and rejoin Alder and Anacostia in the field unit. Once they were able to start operating again, that is. Focusing on her work once again, Scylla returned her attention to the log of posts and direct message history for an outdated forum website. Scylla stopped. _There_. Finally, another username that fit the description she was looking for.

Scylla tried and failed to suppress a slight snort at the absurdity of it: an0nym0ush0tsh0t. Seriously? She followed the username, finding a brief exchange with another user – truth4ever. She scoffed again at the dated internet culture. Nevertheless, Scylla leaned forward in her seat, feeling a tingle of hope that this would lead her to something useful.

an0nym0ush0tsh0t: r u a journalist?

truth4ever: Yes, why?

an0nym0ush0tsh0t: i have something the world needs to see. I have evidence that a corrupt hospital manager stole money meant for protective equipment for doctors and nurses

truth4ever: A friend of yours?

an0nym0ush0tsh0t: no. shut up >:(

an0nym0ush0tsh0t: if i give it to you, will you publish it or not?

truth4ever: I’ll need to see it first. Not every dude in his mom’s basement actually means business.

an0nym0ush0tsh0t: _link attached_

an0nym0ush0tsh0t: see 4 yourself.

an0nym0ush0tsh0t: and i’m a girl.

truth4ever: This is good, but this on its own won’t attract attention. If you want people to see this, it’s going to take something bigger. Something more interesting.

an0nym0ush0tsh0t: give me a week.

Scylla allowed herself a grim smile. This exchange fit exactly the profile she was looking for. With the exact username to help her, Scylla quickly found a treasure trove of exchanges between her mark and the journalist. One included a link to evidence that the same man that had stolen from the hospital had also taken part in illegal online prostitution and a child pornography exchange. She was searching through the evidence her mark sent to the journalist, looking for anything useful, when the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

“Just what on earth are you doing?” The boom of Commander Bellweather’s voice brought even the hushed typing to a quiet stop. Scylla was grateful it hadn’t taken her by surprise, though. She’d hate to give Bellweather the pleasure. Adopting a fake smile, Scylla turned in her chair to face Bellweather head-on.

“I’m just looking for any connection to that hacker you seem to need so desperately.” A superficially sweet tone blunted the edge in her words. Bellweather’s eyes narrowed and nostrils flared. Noticing the sudden quiet, Bellweather sent a warning glare across the room. At her look, the room quickly returned to the sounds of work.

“Abigail.” Bellweather barked, maintaining eye contact with Scylla all the while. Scylla did her best to stay cool. Abigail sidled up next to her mother’s side, looking down at Scylla with contempt. _Like a trained dog,_ Scylla thought with mirrored contempt.

“Yes?” Abigail inquired.

“Why don’t you help Scylla here. It seems she’s having some trouble staying focused on the task at hand.”

Abigail gave a curt nod that her mother returned. As the Commander turned on her heel to check in with the rest of the cyber unit, Abigail turned to Scylla with an arrogant smirk.

“Stow it,” Scylla murmured, a threat clear in her voice. Abigail just rolled her eyes and pulled up a seat next to her.

With an afterthought, Abigail turned back to her station. “Hey, Tally,” she called. A head of long auburn hair with a brilliant smile popped up suddenly from among the monitors. Teeth gleaming, Tally strode rapidly towards the pair.

“Hi, I’m Tally!” Tally extended an enthusiastic hand towards Scylla, shaking her hand before she could even offer it.

“She’s new,” Abigail explained somewhat obviously, sending a side-eye Scylla’s way.

“Mm.” Scylla pitied the poor new recruit that had to train under Abigail Bellweather.

To Scylla’s chagrin, Abigail and Tally were actually _helpful_. While they had yet to know the exact identity of their mark, they had learned that she would be attending an entry-level coding academy in Salem, Oregon. Beyond that, though, they were at a complete loss. They even requested the help of the Spree’s best tracker. Despite her involvement in a number of eye-catching stunts in the last several years, their mark had apparently left no evidence that could be traced back to her. The _only_ things they knew about her were what she revealed in chats using the username Scylla had painstakingly found. Even then, they’d only known that was _her_ username because they’d been directed to it.

“We should report to my mom with what we have.” Abigail stated matter-of-factly.

“Don’t you think we should wait until we have something more conclusive? Maybe there’s something we haven’t found yet. We still don’t know who she is,” Scylla protested.

“No.” Scylla knew that the cool, self-assured look Abigail gave Scylla was meant as a challenge. Though Scylla kept her outward demeanor disaffected, her fists clenched under the table with suppressed anger. Instead of reacting, she just shot Tally a small smile and an eye roll. Tally returned her smile, though she was clearly a bit thrown by the dynamic between Abigail and Scylla. Abigail shot Tally a look of betrayal after the interaction.

A few minutes later, the trio stood in front of Commander Bellweather’s small desk.

“This girl is good. Really good. I combed through everything I could find on her, but the most we could get is that she’s going to be in Oregon for a session with the Fort Salem Coding Academy in a few weeks.” Abigail stated.

“And that she’s a girl,” Scylla added. She ignored the look she could feel Abigail giving her. Commander Bellweather’s eyes flicked between the two girls before narrowing.

“Alright, then. We’ve been looking for this _girl_ ” – she glanced at Scylla – “for a long time. We can’t afford to pass up the chance to finally find and recruit her. I’m familiar with that coding academy. I can pull a few strings and have you three added as last-minute students. When you’re there,” she paused and leaned forward, clasping her hands together in front of her. “You are to stay focused on your mission. You are to talk to every female coder there, get to know them. Keep in mind everything you know about your mark. Pay special attention to the students that excel in the class.” She leaned back in her seat again, taking a deep breath. “This girl is an exceptional hacker. If we recruit her, she could make the Spree more powerful than we ever imagined.”

At the Commander’s parting words, Abigail puffed out her chest and lifted her chin. Tally smiled and lifted her shoulders in excitement, sending quick glances to the other girls. Despite everything Scylla felt about Abigail’s apparent surprise addition to _her_ mission, Scylla only clenched her jaw. Satisfied with the apparent weight of her words, Commander Bellweather moved to pick up the phone.

“Until the academy actually starts, you will need to secure a living situation for the three of you. Assume that it will take the entire course to find the mark. If she’s clever online, she’ll likely be clever in person, too. Learn everything you can about her so that you’ll be able to pick her out. We’ll get a car for you to drive out to Salem.” Noticing the look of discomfort on her daughter’s face at that, Bellweather adopted a stern look.

“And girls, remember. This is bigger than any of us. Do not let your personal issues interfere with the mission.” After a moment of letting _that_ hang in the air, Bellweather nodded for them to leave. As they group returned to the desk they’d been working at, Tally could hardly suppress her excitement.

“This is my first mission!” she gushed. Scylla just raised her eyebrows and flashed a lifeless smile. Abigail smiled and gave Tally a playful shove.

“Don’t get too excited. This is small-time.” Tally brushed Abigail’s negativity off, her smile never leaving her face.

“How long is the academy session again?” Abigail asked.

“Six months.” Abigail flashed Scylla a sharp look at her curt response.

“Okay, so let’s _not_ do that. Study up, girls. We’ve got a hacker to catch.”

The three set to work preparing for the mission ahead. Scylla cast a glance back towards Commander Bellweather’s desk. That uneasy feeling seemed to have settled permanently in her gut. There would be something different about this mission. Whether it would be the Spree, the mission, or Scylla herself, she couldn’t tell. But whatever it was, her gut was telling her it would be momentous.

The familiar rumble of the bus against Raelle’s head was oddly comforting. She always found herself lost in thought on her morning commute, lulled by the repetitive sound and feel of the bus groaning along her city’s faded pavement. She looked out the window with unfocused eyes, scarcely noticing the decrepit facades of the struggling businesses that lined the route. Instead, she let herself roil in unfocused concern for her future. In just a week’s time, she would move to Oregon for a formal intensive six-month code school. As for what she’d do after that, she had no idea.

Her father seemed insistent on her using her computer skills to land a good job, a stable life. The kind of job that could support a family. Raelle’s heart squeezed at the thought, just as it always did. She’d already had a family. But what’s the point of building something beautiful if it could just be taken away at any moment? A good job hadn’t done her mother much good.

She could always continue the hobby that had come to dominate her life since her adolescence. Her father wouldn’t approve, but at least she would be able to feel like she had some measure of control. The way she saw it, the world is little more than a heap of formless chaos. People could carve out a place for themselves within it, but there is no escaping it. You can choose to forget that and live a blissful life that you can hope remains uninterrupted, or accept it, and let the chaos be your _choice_. Better yet, you can even become a part of the chaos.

There was something addicting about the vigilante justice Raelle had taken part in. A not-insignificant part of her wanted to continue it, and even begin taking on bigger, more difficult targets. It was dangerous, though. Bigger targets also meant bigger consequences. The image of herself in a jumpsuit sprang unbidden to her mind. As satisfying as she found hacktivism, the consequences of her actions always loomed in the back of her mind. Besides being dangerous, Raelle also knew it would be lonely. If she escalated her tactics, she would have to be a complete loner. More complex methods would mean she’d have to leave her hometown to live on her own, and higher stakes would mean she’d have to stay paranoid to stay safe. If she did all of it right, she could have a long and powerful career as a hacktivist. Even then, she would still be more alone and afraid than she’d ever been. Her heart squeezed at that thought, too. 

Raelle didn’t know what to do. So instead of making a decision, she’d given in to her father’s pleas for her to at least give a productive career a try. Hence her enrollment in the Fort Salem code school. It would appease her father and buy her some time and space to decide her path. If she committed to hacktivism, there was no going back. At least with code school and a job, she could always change her mind if she wanted to. Maybe her dad had the right idea. Maybe ignorance was the only real option. Maybe she could still be happy. But then again, maybe the drudgery of feeding into a system whose faults Raelle knew too well would just drain her soul and leave her empty. She’d seen enough of that in the troubled households of the kids she grew up with. She shuddered at the image of becoming another iteration of the villains of her youth.

Around and around she went. By this point, Raelle had more feelings than thoughts about the subject of her future. Exactly how much could this code school teach her, anyways? She already knew enough to access “secure” documents at all levels in all kinds of organizations. Maybe those weren’t exactly the kinds of skills that would land her a nice job, but they were the kinds of skills that helped her bring some measure of justice to her family and community. It had been her, after all, that had exposed the criminal mismanagement in the hospital where her mother worked. It had been her that had brought down the pervert whose greed was directly responsible for her mother’s death. He was still in prison because of her. A nice girl in a nice job wouldn’t have done that. Nor would that girl have had a hand in exposing records of corporate abuse across the country. Employee harassment, illegal drug price inflation, labor exploitation, you name it. She’d even exposed a corrupt politician taking illegal bribes once. She’d only actually spearheaded the first venture; the rest had been anonymously and secured referred to her by the investigative journalism community. They found the story, and she found the evidence. It was a simple deal. Doing something to take down people like the man whose negligence ruined her life helped Raelle to live with the chaos of the world. Without that, though, Raelle wasn’t sure where she stood.

Noticing her stop outside the bus window, Raelle gathered her briefcase and stepped off the bus with a polite farewell to the driver. The office building loomed before her, oppressive in its blandness. Sure, she might be making the world a better place in her time off. But it certainly didn’t pay much. Hence her employment at Media Communications Corp, the giant call center where adrift souls go to die. Morose and a little anxious, she shuffled into the building with her eyes down. In the elevator up to her floor, Raelle stole glances at six or so of her coworkers. The elevator’s fluorescent lights glinted off wan skin and dull eyes. To her dismay, she saw little in the way of energy in any of them. As the elevator groaned upwards, people left one by one for their respective floors. The ritual felt empty. Raelle was glad to get off the elevator at the IT level. It tended to be a bit livelier than the rest of the call center. 

“Hey, Rick.” Raelle flashed a grim smile at her manager. He didn’t return the gesture.

“Collar. You’re late. Again.”

Raelle blinked, glancing down at the watch on her wrist. She was indeed five minutes late. When she looked back up at Rick, his expression hadn’t changed. She didn’t care enough to apologize, so she simply shrugged and continued towards her desk. Rick just threw up his arms and stalked away to find someone else to micromanage. _One week_ , she thought to herself. Even though she wasn’t excited by the prospect of the code school, she could still look forward to the chance to break her routine and experience something new. _One week._

The week flew by. Raelle buried her face into her father’s neck, surprised by how overcome she found herself. She’d never been apart from her father for more than two weeks, and now she was about to be gone for a full six months. With a deep breath, she finally pulled away from him. Unlike many father-daughter pairs, their relationship was strong. He had never questioned her tomboyish ways, never told her she couldn’t do something because she was a girl. He’d simply given her the tools to navigate the world and let her do as she pleased. When her mother, his wife, died seven years ago, they’d grown even closer. Neither her father nor her mother had much in the way of family, so after her death they were all they had for each other. Well, besides the neighbors. They’d helped a lot.

Raelle’s dad had a kind of quiet wisdom about him that she rarely saw in others. She’d always been able to see why her mother had loved him. Raelle smiled at him now, biting back tears that threatened to spill over. If she cried, he’d cry. Better to just keep things from getting messy.

“You’re going to be just fine. And getting out of town might do you some good. Show you exactly what you’re missing here,” he reassured with a gentle smile. Raelle couldn’t help but chuckle.

“We’ll see about that.”

“Raelle, I want to be serious for a moment. There are only two things that I’m going to ask of you. Number one: work hard. You’ve got a brilliant mind and if you put yourself to work, there’s no telling what you can accomplish. Anything you really want, you can get. Just apply yourself.” He paused for a moment, waiting for Raelle to look into his eyes again. “Number two: stay safe. That shouldn’t be too hard. Like I said, you’re bright. You can keep yourself out of trouble.” There was love in his smile. “Can you promise me that you will do those two things?” he implored.

Raelle frowned at her father.

“Please, Raelle. Can you do it for me?” He held out his hand, waiting for Raelle to shake it. Raelle pursed her lips, but took his hand for a firm handshake anyways. He smiled broadly when she did. “There’s just one more thing. I’ve been waiting for the right time to give you this, and right now feels like as good a time as any.” He turned away from her, going to a drawer along the wall. He pulled something from its depths, supporting it gently in his palms.

“This was your mothers. She would have wanted you to have it.” As he spoke, he opened the box in his hands. Delicately, he reached in and pulled out a silver necklace by its clasp to show its full length. A small silver bird with its wings spread and a speck of blue in its eye hung from the bottom of the chain. He sniffed a bit and cleared his throat, making the clenched up face he made when he was holding back tears.

“She wore this the whole time she was pregnant with you. She always said being pregnant with you felt like magic. After you were born, she swore that some of that magic wore off on this necklace. She said it had become a good luck charm.” Now Raelle herself felt tears welling to the surface. She remembered then what it was like to be her mother’s daughter. She’d always seen the beauty in everything. Though it felt like a far-off dream, she could still feel the warm glow of her mother’s love. Usually, she tried not to think about it. Still, she missed it.

“Here, I’ll help you put it on.” Raelle nodded silently and turned around, brushing her hair to the side. When the charm settled against her chest, right next to her heart, she felt an indescribable warmth. Her left hand went up to touch it, tracing its shape with her fingers. Raelle turned to face her father, unable to stop the tears that fell silently down her cheeks. He pulled her in for another hug and they both cried for a few moments. When they pulled apart, they both took a deep breath.

“Alright kiddo. Make me proud.” He gave her a final clap on the shoulder. She chuckled and nodded, wiping her eyes.

Sitting in her mom’s old car with six months of clothes in the backseat, Raelle paused as she adjusted her mirrors. No more looking back. It was time to move forward now.

“Ooookaay, that’s enough Disney now Tally,” Abigail thundered. A Little Mermaid song had just popped up on the queue.

“Oh, come on! Don’t be such a party pooper. You like Disney, don’t you Scylla?” Tally protested, leaning forward from the backseat to perch her chin just above Scylla’s shoulder. Her eyes still on the road, Scylla quirked her head in ambivalence. In truth, she didn’t care all that much about what played through their junker car’s old sound system. She had enough on her mind without all that noise. The road and her thoughts were enough to keep her occupied. Long-distance driving was meditative like that for her. Maybe because it felt like an echo of her childhood. She cringed at the thought, bringing her focus back to the other cars on the road around her. Tally and Abigail’s antics continued, both oblivious to Scylla’s internal turmoil.

“Ugh, fine. Okay, we can change it. But quit it with the angsty stuff, will you?” Tally conceded, turning to face Abigail in the passenger seat. Abigail had apparently been sitting there fuming, because when she turned to confront Tally she spoke with blistering heat.

“What the hell, Craven? You know we’re terrorists, right?”

“Freedom fighters,” Scylla corrected. That earned her a glare.

“ _Whatever_. You don’t get into this job without baggage. So what the hell, Craven? Where’s your baggage?”

There was silence, and Scylla saw Tally’s face fall from the corner of her eye. She couldn’t help but take pity on the young recruit. She knew all too well what it felt like to deal with Abigail in all her rage and sociopathy. Besides, the last thing the trio needed was for Abigail’s recruit-in-training to get cold feet and drop out of the Spree just as they began a long-term undercover mission together.

“There’s a difference between having baggage and reliving baggage,” Scylla interjected, shooting Abigail a pointed look. Abigail, to her credit, took the hint and crashed back into her seat with a dejected huff. The dramatic effect of her rage was cheapened a bit by her seat’s pathetic squeaking. Scylla had to suppress a smile at the comedy of it. When she felt a soft touch on her shoulder, she glanced back to see Tally looking at her with an earnest expression of gratitude. Scylla flashed a small smile, taking note of the exchange. It begged the question – what exactly _was_ Tally’s baggage? As annoying as Abigail was, she did have a point. Almost everyone in the Spree had a deeply personal reason for joining. How could they not? Joining the Spree meant effectively throwing away your chances for a normal life. In fact, the only person she knew who _didn’t_ appear to have explanatory baggage was the girl sitting next to her in the passenger seat.

“ _All_ my music is angsty,” Abigail muttered, scrolling through the playlists on her phone. Scylla suppressed a smile. She could have guessed. Still though, what was Abigail’s baggage? Yes, she clearly had a dangerously high internal pressure. That much was clear from her frequent rage-filled outbursts. Having Commander Bellweather as a mother couldn’t help with that, Scylla thought. That lady was as intense and slimy as they come. But what else was there? As far as she knew, the only real baggage with the Bellweathers was firmly attached to Commander Petra Bellweather. As annoying as she found Abigail, Scylla’s curiosity was officially piqued.

“What about Bruce Springsteen and some golden oldies? They have angsty songs, but they sound happy while they sing about it,” Tally suggested.

“Sure, whatever,” Abigail conceded. Tally grinned and queued up a song, humming along with the words under her breath. Scylla decided she liked Tally. She, too, seemed to have hidden depths.

The next morning, Scylla woke up to the shrieking complaint of their dingy apartment’s metal blinds being thrown open. The blinding light that followed was similarly jarring.

“Rise and shine!” Tally exclaimed, opening the window to let in a flood of crisp morning air. “Sorry Scylla, I didn’t think the blinds would be that noisy,” Tally apologized. Scylla just groaned in response, pulling her blanket up over her eyes to block out the light. Tally hummed as she began loudly banging around in their new shared kitchen.

Bleary with sleep, Scylla groaned and sat up. The trio had gotten into their shared apartment late last night to find that there was only one bed. Abigail had of course claimed it for herself, leaving Scylla to the couch and Tally to the dingy carpet. How that girl was as cheery as she currently was, Scylla couldn’t explain.

Before long, the trio were cleaned up and making the short walk to the Fort Salem code school together.

“Right, so let’s review. We’re looking for a girl. She’s been hacking for seven years. Her first job was to expose a hospital perv for embezzlement and then kiddy porn. Since then, she’s expanded to a wider variety. She works through journalists that feed her douchebags they suspect of foul play. Then, she just finds the digital evidence they need to bring them down.”

“That’s about the gist of it,” Scylla muttered, chafing at Abigail’s commanding tone. She may have to bow to her mother, but she and Abigail were on a level playing field. Abigail simply ignored her and continued.

“Stay alert. Get to know everyone you can. Remember that we’re here on a mission.” Though Tally nodded vigorously, Scylla couldn’t help but roll her eyes. It was just like Abigail to overlook the important details of what they knew. That first hacking job, the one that _Scylla_ had found, happened in Virginia. That was the only one that hadn’t been set up for her. And from the exchange she saw with the reporter, it sounded personal. Something that had been meaningful to Mystery Girl. Not for the first time, Scylla wondered what the Mystery Girl would look like. She imagined someone weird, someone that had other reasons to stay on their computers all the time. Whatever. It didn’t matter, anyways.

The three of them filed into a small auditorium with bad lighting and worse ventilation for the code school’s orientation. Though there were a handful of mismatched fans littered about and chairs to prop open the doors, they did little to combat the oppressive June heat. The three of them positioned themselves near the back, close to an exit. Both Scylla and Abigail had enough field experience to have made a habit of always having a clear escape route. Plus, this way, they could look over the heads of the whole class of incoming students.

At 9:00 am on the dot, a rotund man with red cheeks and a balding head stepped up to the stage’s lone podium. From the first monotonous words to come from his mouth, it was clear his speech was going to be a bore. He seemed to be reading directly from the orientation manual they’d handed out to students at the door. It didn’t take long for Scylla’s gaze and thoughts to wander. From the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of bright yellow. She turned her head to get a better look. There she was – a beautiful girl with short, vibrant blond hair leaned casually against one of the doorframes. Scylla watched as the girl took in the speaker, looked around the room, and slipped right back out of the auditorium. The whole thing took less than a minute. Though Scylla couldn’t be sure, she thought the girl caught her watching her just as she turned to leave. Given the state of the orientation speech, Scylla figured she had nothing to lose in following her. Moving slowly, she edged herself towards the door. Abigail saw her movement and gave her an angry look, silently demanding that she come back and sit out the speech with her and Tally. Instead, Scylla gave her signature smirk and slipped out the door.

Free of that terminally boring speaker, Scylla tugged on her casual blazer and glanced around the hallway. Unsure of which way the blonde had gone, she took a guess and casually strolled off in that direction. After a few minutes of fruitless searching, she resigned herself to exit the building and head towards the grove of trees she’d seen when she went into the building. It seemed as good a place as any to kill some time.

As Scylla approached the French doors of the exit, she saw an opportunity to blow off some steam. 12 hours in the car with High Atlantic herself was more than she could take without a bit of release. After all, it had partly been her desire to be free of life’s meaningless hierarchies that drove her to join the Spree in the first place. The last thing she wanted now was to be subject to them all over again. Abigail’s haughtiness reminded her too much of the kids she’d grown up with on the east coast.

Though Scylla was more than capable of enduring excruciating situations with no outward reaction, she still always felt everything. The frustration, the fear, the anxiety. The fury. She couldn’t keep it pent up forever. Sporting a mean grin, Scylla threw the French doors open with all of her strength. They bounced off the brick doorway with a satisfying crack. Scylla stepped forward into the sunlight with a deep breath, closing her eyes and lifting her face and palms to the light to revel in the sudden feeling of freedom. Moments like these were all too infrequent these days.

Scylla held that pose for a moment, basking in the sun’s warmth. When she finally opened her eyes and dropped her arms, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness. As they did, she was pleasantly surprised to see the blond girl she’d left to follow in the first place leaned against a tree ahead of her. She was directing a quizzical gaze in her direction. Scylla didn’t stop the natural smile that bloomed at the sight of the beautiful girl watching her. Slowly, intentionally, she made her way towards the girl. Clad in a large flannel, torn black jeans, and beat-up combat boots, the girl looked completely unconcerned by the heat.

“Rousing speech, wouldn’t you say?” Scylla asked once she stood in front of the girl, tossing her hair and gesturing vaguely back towards the building. The girl quirked an eyebrow in response. Now that she could see her better, Scylla admired her fine features. Narrow, icy blue eyes peered out at Scylla from a halo of white-blond hair. One side of her head was separated into small braids, showing off a regal jawline. A deep scar ran from her chin to her cheek, giving her the appearance of a slight pout. But Scylla found herself captivated with her sharp blue eyes. She could lose herself in those eyes.

“I hear he does graduations,” the girl replied nonchalantly. Scylla held the mysterious girl’s unflinching gaze for a moment before allowing herself a slight chuckle. She didn’t notice she’d bitten her lip until she already had. At the sight of Scylla’s smile, the girl seemed to relax a little, flashing a smile of her own. Scylla liked it – it had dimples. Scylla looked down at her feet, brushing a bit of her hair behind her ear. When she looked back up at the mysterious girl, she looked up through her long lashes, a shy smile playing across her face.

“I’m Scylla.”

“Raelle.” Her voice was deliciously husky.

“Shouldn’t you be at the orientation?” Scylla quirked her head, keeping a flirtatious edge to her voice. Raelle smiled again at the prod.

“Shouldn’t you?” Raelle countered immediately, eyebrows raised. Scylla’s smile grew.

“Walk with me?” Raelle shrugged and nodded. Together, they strolled in no direction in particular.

“What brings you to Fort Salem?” Scylla asked.

Raelle stiffened for a moment before shrugging dismissively. “The job market, I guess.” She looked away from Scylla as she said it. “What about you?”

“Much the same, I suppose. Although I won’t lie, I’m hoping that it will give me a little more than something I can put on my resume.”

Raelle laughed. Her face lit up in a way that gave Scylla a funny feeling when she did. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Scylla smiled provocatively at first, but when she looked into Raelle’s eyes she lost her nerve. She decided to drop the overtly flirtatious act. Instead, she let herself give a natural laugh. “I don’t even know, to be honest with you. My job sent me here. I guess they want a little technology talent that I don’t have.” She looked down at her feet, surprised at her honesty with this complete stranger. She had meant for this conversation to be bait for Raelle to open up about her potential hacktivist past, but now it was her that was opening up. “For so long, I was so sure of what I wanted to do in this world. But now I’m not so sure.” She paused for a moment. When she glanced over at Raelle, she was surprised to see her beautiful eyes attentively focused on her. Where they had been narrowed before, they were gentle now. When their eyes met, Raelle held the connection without fear. Scylla’s heart fluttered.

After a moment, Raelle looked down to speak. “Yeah, I can understand that. It’s like, there’s who you want to be, and then there’s who the world forces you to be.” Raelle’s voice was bitter, hardened. “It grinds you down. I’ve seen it.” Scylla thought of her own parents. They’d been vibrant to the very end, never swaying from their ideals. And it got them killed. Maybe it was her that had been ground down, after all.

“It can,” Scylla affirmed, her voice made gentle by the sudden ache that had bloomed in her chest. “But it doesn’t have to.” The words felt like a lie on her lips.

Just then, the two rounded the corner of the block. There, down the street, was a sight Scylla had been secretly looking forward to ever since she’d found out she’d be going on a trip to the west coast.

“Do you see that?” she asked, animatedly pointing for Raelle to the marijuana dispensary down the street. Raelle squinted at it for a moment before breaking into nervous laughter.

“I don’t know about all that. I’ve never smoked before…” she trailed off. Scylla looked at her with a smile, giving Raelle a once over with her eyes.

“Come on,” Scylla pleaded. Raelle still looked unsure. “Live a little!” Scylla gave Raelle a playful nudge. Raelle looked between Scylla and the dispensary one more time before breaking into a real laugh and shaking her head.

“Why not,” Raelle rationalized, gesturing for Scylla to go ahead and walk to the dispensary. Scylla grinned, grabbing Raelle’s outstretched hand to pull her along with her as she set off towards the dispensary.


	2. Orientations are bullshit, anyways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Raelle and Scylla skip orientation to smoke a blunt and get to know each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read the first chapter, I made some slight edits to fit into the larger story arc I've come up with. The gist is still the same though, so there's no need to re-read it. Enjoy stoned!Raelle :)

“What if the universe is happening all at once, and we’re just experiencing it like it’s linear because that’s all we can possibly understand?”

“Okay, I think that might be enough for you,” Scylla giggled, reaching for the now-forgotten joint still clutched in Raelle’s gesturing hand. She lingered when her fingers briefly grazed Raelle’s hand. Raelle watched it happen with glazed eyes and a vague smile.

“Have you done this before?”

“A few times, in college,” Scylla responded, putting the joint out on the pavement before returning it to its container. “Never legally, though. Have you?”

Raelle giggled and flopped back against the grass they sat on. “I’ll give you _two_ guesses.” Within moments her laughter had subsided, and she released a slight gasp as she worked her hands through the grass beneath her. “This grass is so soft,” she marveled.

Scylla giggled and laid down beside her. She closed her eyes and turned her palms upwards, focusing on the pleasant weightless sensation that accompanied being high. Muscles in her back that she hadn’t even known she’d been clenching relaxed as she allowed herself to sink into the feeling. It had to have been months since she’d felt so relaxed. And in the presence of a stranger, no less.

“So, I’m not going back to orientation.” Raelle stated matter-of-factly.

“Orientations are bullshit, anyways,” Scylla agreed.

After a moment, Raelle broke into an uncontrollable fit of giggles. “I agree,” she managed to get out. 

“What, exactly, is so funny about orientations?” Scylla asked. She sat up to turn towards Raelle and lean her head on her fist. Raelle mirrored her with a sudden spastic movement that closed the distance between them. Scylla swallowed as she realized their bodies were now less than eight inches apart. Raelle, still giggling, didn’t seem to notice.

“Funny as in funny, or funny as in _queer_?” Raelle’s laughter trailed off as the innocence in her expression faded. _Oh._ Scylla’s flirting with Raelle hadn’t necessarily been serious; it was just how she tended to approach social interactions with strangers. Sometimes though, it could get her into trouble. If Raelle’s dumb joke was any indication, Raelle might have seen something in Scylla’s flirtations. Scylla automatically began thinking of a way to defuse the situation, but as she opened her mouth to speak, she paused. With a jolt, she realized she didn’t want Raelle to stop flirting. Her eyes glanced down at Raelle’s lips, so close to her own. A sudden overwhelming desire to close the distance and kiss those lips shot through her. _Oh,_ she thought. _Wow._

A new, unfamiliar feeling sprung to life in her gut. _Oh. Wow._ Scylla had never thought of herself as into girls. She’d admired a few girls, sure, but it had never gone farther than making out at a party. But lying this close to Raelle, the implied question of her interest hanging in the air, there was no denying that Scylla wanted more than friendship, or even flirtation.

Scylla’s pause must have come off as discouraging to Raelle, because her face looked like it was closing off somehow. Like the twinkle in her eyes was retreating into her depths. _No_ , _wait_ , Scylla thought. She hurried to respond. Mustering all of the flirtatious energy she could, Scylla bit her lip and smiled, looking into Raelle’s eyes. “Both, I suppose.” For extra effect, she reached out to give Raelle’s relaxed hand a brief touch.

“Both, I suppose.” Scylla’s big, beautiful blue eyes were focused right on Raelle. When her hand reached out to touch Raelle’s, Raelle relaxed and returned Scylla’s smile. Having grown up in a small southern town, Raelle was always careful to shut down feelings towards girls incapable of reciprocating them. But now, with Scylla’s interest in her confirmed, Raelle felt everything she’d been repressing suddenly come to the surface. She had to resist the urge to look down at the dark-haired girl’s perfectly sculpted lips; if she did, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stop herself from kissing her right there.

“Anyways, like I said, orientations are bullshit,” Scylla continued after a moment. She settled gracefully back down onto the grass, her hands behind her head. She had a pensive look on her face that Raelle couldn’t quite place. Raelle prided herself on her intuitive ability to read people and situations, but with Scylla she found herself coming up blank. There was something attractive about that. Wondering what time it was, Raelle glanced down at her phone.

“So, it’s 9:45. What should we do with the rest of the day?”

“Bold of you to assume that I’m going to spend the rest of my day with you.” Raelle’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. _Shit._

“Sorry, I-“

“Bold, but accurate.” Scylla smiled, reaching out to give Raelle’s hand another reassuring touch. Raelle’s heart fluttered. Raelle tried to scowl comically, but had a hard time doing it over her smile. It must have worked anyways though, because Scylla giggled. “I saw a river that goes downtown. Maybe we could find it, walk along it. Maybe even find some ice cream being sold. It’s hot out here.”

Raelle hummed. “That sounds nice. Although literally anything outside of that auditorium is a step up.”

The pair soon found themselves strolling along a pleasant paved path beside the river. Other people frequently passed them, earning increasingly inquisitive looks from Raelle. “Don’t these people have jobs?” she asked, sounding disturbed. “Do you ever wonder that? I feel like I see people out all the time during normal work hours. How do they do that?”

“Well, we’re out here,” Scylla countered.

“Exactly!” Raelle laughed. “We’re out here stoned, skipping orientation to a professional training. If all of these people are doing _that_ , how does everything keep working?” Scylla laughed, too. She had a nice laugh, Raelle decided. Quiet, but nice.

“I suppose that’s true. I guess they must be on their break time from work. Or they just don’t work.”

Raelle scoffed. “I don’t buy it. Everyone I knew growing up worked _all the time_. Either because they needed the money or had nothing to go back to. Or first one, then the other.” Raelle didn’t bother to hide the bitterness in her voice. Cute girl or not, this was not a topic she was willing to soften on.

Scylla was quiet for a moment. “Maybe all of these people are just agents of a larger conspiracy. A conspiracy to make us think that a nice life is possible, really it’s still out of our reach.”

Raelle squinted into the sunlight to smile at Scylla. “You see that bird?” She pointed to a duck splashing around along the riverbank, waiting until Scylla nodded. “Government drone.”

“Oh, definitely. Hey, look over there.” Scylla moved to Raelle’s side, putting a gentle arm around her shoulders to direct Raelle’s eyes farther along the riverbank. “A bunch of baby drones.” Scylla’s arm lingered around Raelle’s shoulders for a moment after Raelle spotted the ducks, prompting a tingle that ran down Raelle’s spine.

“Aw, little baby drone paddle school,” Raelle gushed. “There’s a bridge up there. Let’s go get a closer look.”

On the bridge, Raelle leaned over the rail and rested her face in her hands to watch the ducks. “Look how fluffy. Look how their little legs just paddle.” A part of Raelle, perhaps the sober part, watched herself act childish with a measure of embarrassment. Usually, she worked hard to keep a cool, disaffected aura. But today, getting stoned for the first time with Scylla, that demeanor was nowhere to be seen. Nothing about her leaned over a bridge cooing at baby ducks screamed “cool.” But another, larger part of Raelle enjoyed the innocence of not caring about how she looked. Maybe it was the weed, maybe it was Scylla. At any rate, she was relaxed and enjoying herself.

Raelle eventually pulled back from the rail, turning around to instead lean her back against it and look outwards along the other side of the river. Scylla, however, remained standing on her tippy toes to catch a glimpse of the ducks rapidly disappearing beneath the bridge. Raelle took the opportunity to steal a glance at Scylla’s appealing shape, appreciating the curve of her ass. A smile tugged at her lips as she took a moment to reflect on her good luck. One thing was for sure - her stay in Oregon was certainly off to a good start.

They continued to walk along the river for a while, talking effortlessly about nothing and everything. Raelle learned that Scylla played piano, violin, and bass guitar; that she loved Chinese food and enjoyed old-timey movies; that she had a rebellious streak. Raelle admired Scylla’s cutting wit and dark humor. Scylla, in turn, seemed to appreciate Raelle’s dumb jokes and dry style. As Scylla had predicted, they eventually found an ice cream truck. Raelle insisted on paying for Scylla’s cone, explaining it as her way of repaying Scylla for the joint. Cones in hand, they settled on a park bench nestled in some trees along the river to enjoy their cold treats and continue their conversation. 

“Oh, here’s a good one. That guy over there, the one on the phone, is talking to his mother-in-law.” Scylla gestured to a balding man in jeans and a flannel that was rubbing his bald spot as he spoke into the phone. He seemed uncomfortable. “She’s insisting he bring his family up to her house for the fourth of July, and he’s mad because his friends spent thousands of dollars on illegal fireworks to set off. But he can’t tell her that, so he’s scrounging around for lame excuses to feed her.”

Raelle nodded, licking her ice cream. “Mm. Totally. That bald spot is from rubbing his head whenever he talks to her.”

Scylla smiled. “Well, you know my uncle always used to say that if you rearrange mother in law, you get woman Hitler.”

Raelle snorted into her ice cream. “Or, you know what, he’s short enough. Maybe people rub his head for good luck and that’s why he’s bald.”

“What, like this?” Scylla reached over to give the top of Raelle’s head a short but vigorous rub.

“What no, get off of me you psychopath,” Raelle laughed, swatting Scylla’s hand away. Scylla withdrew her hand, smiling coyly.

“That woman over there. The one with the weights in her hands.” Raelle pointed to a woman in athletic gear speed-walking along the pathway. “She’s been putting poison in her husband’s coffee for a while now. She’s hoping it will take, but it’s been two weeks and he’s not dead yet. Just sickly.”

“Hot take.” Scylla paused to lick at her ice cream. “She ordered the poison from her drug dealer. But now she’s doubting that a high school kid named Dak gave her what he said he gave her.”

Raelle laughed. “Yeah. So now she’s considering going to the other game in town, Kyle.”

“Oh, Kyle’s good. He supplies the whole PTA with valium,” Scylla affirmed.

“ _And_ he didn’t sleep with _any_ of them,” Raelle pointed out, raising her eyebrows as though impressed. It was Scylla’s turn to snort into her ice cream.

“Ohhh, here’s one. That teenager on the longboard, the one with the sell-out t-shirt and the smirk on his face. He’s smirking because he just had sex for the first time and now he feels like a big man.”

Raelle smiled. “But, little does he know, that girl is taking an “am I gay” quiz online at this _very_ moment.”

Scylla threw her head back to laugh at that one. “Oh, that fits. And here he is thinking she hooked up with him because he’s so irresistibly attractive when in reality, she just wanted to experiment with someone that wouldn’t become a problem.” 

Scylla noticed Raelle turn to look at her then. “Have you done that? I mean, obviously no judgement either way. But just, out of curiosity….” Raelle trailed off.

Scylla paused to smile. “I have not.” She looked down for a moment, picking at the paper wrapping on her ice cream cone. “I’ve never really questioned my identity too much. I just focus on what,” Scylla’s eyes flashed up to Raelle, “or I guess who, feels right in the moment.”

Raelle held her gaze for a moment before turning back in her seat to look out towards the river again. “I can understand that. My parents and I both knew I was into girls pretty much from elementary school, so there was never really any questioning for me. I didn’t even realize it was something that mattered until I got into high school and people started talking shit about fags in the hallways.” She gave a dismal shrug and took another pass at her ice cream cone.

“Really? And how did you react to that?”

Raelle smiled. “I kept my distance, mostly. And I didn’t listen to what they said, either. I mean, it’s not like anything else they had to say really meant much,” she laughed, as though recalling a story. “I didn’t feel like I had to get involved. Well, at least until they started picking on one of my friends. Then it felt like my problem.”

“I feel like there’s a story there.” Scylla quirked her head with interest.

Raelle sighed, taking a moment to focus on her ice cream cone. “It’s kind of a long story.” She paused to focus on her ice cream cone, looking over at Scylla. Seeing that she had Scylla’s full attention, she chuckled to herself and continued. “I was 16, I think. I’d just started really developing my mean streak. I didn’t have a lot of friends then. I’d been, uh, going through some stuff.” Raelle paused to clear her throat. “But anyways, my best friend at the time was a kid named Joey. He’d moved to the school relatively recently. He actually wasn’t even out at the time, but he was one of those kids that just seemed obviously gay. So, these kids started picking on him. I stood up for him when I saw it happen, but it just kept happening. It was starting to really take a toll on him. I mean, nobody else in that school would go anywhere near him.” Raelle scoffed, remembering how powerless she had felt to see her friend suffer. The image of Joey crying in her bed, telling her how badly he wanted to die, flashed behind her eyes. She’d wanted to comfort him then, but back then she wasn’t taking care of herself, either. She hadn’t known how to help him the way that friends _should_. But that didn’t mean she hadn’t done what she could. Raelle swallowed back the emotions the memories brought, continuing her story. “I was his only friend. I wasn’t exactly fun then – I was angry and obsessive.”

“At 16, who isn’t?” Scylla gave Raelle’s thigh a reassuring touch. Raelle surprised herself with her reaction to it; she hadn’t expected the flush of excitement that followed. _Focus_ , she thought to herself. “But I feel like this is where the story gets good,” Scylla prompted, flashing Raelle an encouraging smile.

Raelle laughed again, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. “That’s one way of putting it. I wanted to help him, so I did it in the only way I knew how. These kids had money. Not a lot of people do back home, but they did. Even worse, their parents were shitty bosses to a lot of the other kids in that high school. So these kids approached school as a power trip. They could be pretty psychopathic sometimes. Anyways, though, their parents ran the town’s profitable businesses. My first instinct to dealing with all of this was to beat them up, but,” Raelle laughed, gesturing at her body. “I’m not exactly all that intimidating. So, I went straight to the source of their power instead. I am a girl of many talents, but among my best is my ability to get into documents that I shouldn’t. I have a magic touch, really.”

“I’ll bet.” Scylla’s voice came out sultry. A blush rose to Raelle’s cheeks after the words were out; she truly hadn’t meant them that way. But to her comfort, she saw a similar blush creep up Scylla’s neck.

Raelle chuckled nervously, wiggling her eyebrows at Scylla before continuing. “I did some digging on the businesses their parents owned. Some of them looked clean, but two of them definitely were not. I went through one of their parents’ work emails and found a dozen or so exchanges that included full-body nudes.” A cute but vicious smile grew on her face as she spoke. She turned towards Scylla, leaning in; Scylla followed suit. In a conspiratorial whisper, Raelle continued her story. “This guy’s dad was exchanging full body nudes with a trans woman. And some _really_ raunchy messages.” She pulled back, laughing as she recalled the memory. “They’re burned into my eyes. If I regret anything, it’s reading all of that trash.”

Scylla brought a hand to her face, shaking her head. “And of course, this guy had a wife. And Jesus on his Facebook page. The whole nine yards.”

Raelle nodded vigorously. “Oh, more than that. That guy was as pious and anti-gay as anybody I’d ever seen. His Facebook page was just about _only_ Christian memes. Well, homophobic Christian memes. Ugh.” She shook her head in disgust. “But I wasn’t done there. I dug into another business and found email records showing that they were paying undocumented people dirt cheap wages under the table. They were laying off locals to do it. And mind you, this is at a steel yard. The work is pretty dangerous, and definitely rough on the body. The labor union got healthcare for workers a long time ago, but if you hire people who are desperate and cut off from authorities, you don’t have to pay for their health insurance.” Raelle took a deep breath. “There was email after email letting this boss know that another worker had gotten injured on the job. The crew operator kept insisting that they work on improving their training, because the language barrier was a serious issue and they work with such high-stakes equipment. But this boss just really did not care. If one of them got hurt, he’d just fire them and hire another.” Raelle shook her head, recalling the photos of mangled hands and broken legs she’d seen in the exhchange.

“Anyways, I took all of that dirt and put it into a nice little package. I guess I got lucky, because it was these adult assholes whose kids were the ringleaders of the high school assholes.”

“No, that doesn’t sound like luck,” Scylla interrupted. “That sounds like they were taught to be what they were.”

Raelle nodded, pursing her lips before continuing. “Yeah, I guess that’s true. So I compiled this nice little package of dirt – for both companies – and sent it to both of the families that benefited from the business. The boss, the wife, the kid, everyone. The next day, I approached the kids about it. I told them that I knew everything, and that I was ready to release that information to law enforcement and social media.” Raelle paused to shake her head, glancing over at Scylla.

“Man, you should have seen the looks on their faces. It was priceless.” She smiled, licking some of her now-dripping ice cream. “I told them to back off Joey and every other kid in the school. If they refused, I’d release the dirt.”

“Did it work?”

“It did, actually. They steered way clear of Joey after that. Things got a lot better for him once they did. Without those hawks hanging over him, he even made some friends. I saw a lot less of him after that.” Raelle smiled sadly.

“Damn.” Scylla let the word hang there. “Talk about a ride or die, though. You came through for him in a really serious way. And for everyone. Sounds like you took those kids down a notch.”

“You know, I suppose it’s a good thing we talked about this. I’d been meaning to release the information about the criminal abuse going on in that steel plant. That stuff needs to stop. And Joey’s graduated by now, so it’s not like there will be repercussions for him.” Raelle reached for her phone. “You know what, I’ll set a reminder. It’s about time I do that.”

When Raelle had her phone out, she laughed. “Damn, time really flies. It’s 2 pm already.” Scylla’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Wow. Feels like no time at all.”

“Do you think orientation is still going?”

Scylla laughed. “I’ve really forgotten all about that. I think the program said it would go until 3, though.”

“Well, like I said. There’s no way I’m going back to that now,” Raelle laughed. “I am getting hungry, though. This ice cream is good, but I could go for something a little more substantial.”

Scylla hummed in agreement, noticing her own hunger. “Do you live far from here?”

“Not too far. But I did leave my car at Fort Salem,” Raelle replied. “What about you?”

“My work put me up in an apartment within walking distance from the school.” Thinking about the apartment, Scylla suddenly remembered she’d be spending the next several months living with Abigail Bellweather. And Tally. She could handle Tally, but Abigail would be sure to get on her nerves at every available opportunity. Scylla must have groaned out loud at the thought, because Raelle chucked dryly.

“That bad, huh?”

Scylla shook her head, bringing a hand to her temple. “The apartment isn’t what you’d call luxurious, but it’s not bad. The real problem is my roommates. My job sent three of us out here for this training, and we’re all living together. One’s not so bad, but the other is sure to make my life a living hell.”

“Well, you could always come over to my place if it gets too bad. You could come over tonight, even,” Raelle offered. Scylla looked over at her, a smile playing at her lips.

“I think I’d like that.”

Raelle smiled again. A soft, earnest smile. “I could make you dinner?”

“Oh, are you a chef too?”

“Not exactly. But I can make a mean ramen.”

“I could always go for a ramen.” Scylla laughed and bit her lip before looking down at her ice cream. “I’d better get back to my apartment first, though. Let my roommates know that I haven’t quit my job just yet. I can walk you back to your car first, though,” she offered. They both stood up then, stretching out a bit and finishing off the last of their ice cream cones.

“Sure. And then I can drop you off at your place, if you want.”

“That sounds perfect.” Scylla smiled.

Raelle pulled to a stop outside of the old apartment complex that was to be Scylla’s new home for the foreseeable future.

“Well, this is me,” Scylla sighed. “Not exactly my proudest living situation.”

“I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to make up for it down the road,” Raelle rationalized.

Scylla laughed without humor. “We’ll see about that. Anyways, though, thank you for the ride Raelle. And for a truly lovely day. It’s been a while since I’ve had that much fun.” Scylla reveled in the shy-but-happy expression on Raelle’s face as she heard her.

“Thank _you_. I can honestly say the same.” Raelle’s eyes glanced down to Scylla’s lips and she had the sudden urge to close the distance and lean in for a kiss. But before she could consider the thought too much more, Raelle looked away. “Here. Put your number in my phone. It’ll make coordination a bit easier,” she suggested.

Scylla hastily entered the number to her burner phone, her fingers nearly shaking from the excitement that had rushed through her at the thought of kissing Raelle. “I have a flip phone, so calling is better than texting. To simplify things, can I just plan on seeing you out here at 6?”

“Sure. Count on it,” Raelle affirmed.

“Alright. Well, I’ll see you then.” Scylla opened the car door to step out.

“Looking forward to it.”

Scylla looked back as Raelle drove away, scarcely able to contain her excitement. When she stepped into the entryway of her apartment, it felt like she was floating. At least, until she realized she wasn’t alone.

“Where the hell have you been?!?” Abigail shouted, rounding the corner of the entryway to square up with Scylla. Her dark hair was pulled up in a bun, her face twisted into an interesting blend of rage and disgust. “None of that was optional. Your _absence_ was _noted,”_ she continued, not waiting for Scylla to respond.

Scylla sighed, pulling her shoulders back and chin up to confront Abigail. “Oh, relax. I was getting to know one of the students. That is what we’re here for, isn’t it?”

Abigail just released a guttural sound of frustration before turning on her heel to go back to whatever it was she’d been doing before. Scylla smiled to herself, moving into the apartment. Oh, she had so much to look forward to living with High and Mighty. In the meantime, though, she had a hot date to get ready for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How about that dinner date though ;) I'll try to post the next chapter next week. I hope you enjoyed it! You can find me on tumblr @cyanidecity for more MFS content.


	3. It's good to stay sharp!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abigail has a lot to say about Scylla; Tally is just along for the ride. Scylla and Raelle each get ready for their date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: italics signify thoughts.   
> Abigail and Tally finally get to share their perspectives in this one.

Abigail paced the short length of the apartment common space, fuming to herself. Though her thoughts were caught up in a confusing buzz of anxiety and frustration, the one line of clarity was Scylla. The image of the dark-haired girl in her mind’s eye always made her seethe. Since the first time the pair had met years ago, Scylla had always questioned her authority. She’d even questioned the authority of Abigail’s mother, the person who had almost single-handedly revived the Spree’s mission. Without her mom, the Spree would still be sitting around talking about thunder and fury, blowing up buildings but doing nothing to actually strengthen their movement. Instead, now they were starting to take a chunk out of the entrenched power acting as obstacles to revolution. They’d taken down corrupt politicians, destroyed key pieces of logistical equipment – delaying operations indefinitely – on mining and drilling operations around the U.S., even published information on barbaric capitalist practices that resulted in the disintegration of a huge corporation. And thanks to Eloise – who _her mom_ had suggested and recruited – the Spree were growing at a breakneck pace. Every day, their swelling ranks made more connections to social justice movements across the country. Under Petra Bellweather, the Spree’s quest for revolution actually seemed _possible_.

Abigail felt proud to be a part of something meaningful. Something _important_. If she hadn’t chosen to give up her life to fight for something better, she could be sitting in an Ivy League school somewhere, chatting up cute boys and taking classes like everyone else her age. But no; she chose to uproot her _whole life_ to help her mother take the Spree to new heights.

Her mind returned to the now-familiar ideas that had become the motivation for everything she did. Her government’s unabashed racism. The cozy relationship between government and corrupt corporations. The covert deals that advanced exploitation over compassion on the daily. The millions of families, disregarded by corrupt systems that feed on fossil fuels and suffering, who will inevitably find themselves refugees without a homeland, forgotten in ghettos with despicable conditions around urban areas all over the world. Abigail clenched her fists, letting herself simmer in the rage those thoughts always brought. When she relaxed her fists, she tried to look into the horizon she hoped for. She saw thousands of people out in the streets, coming together to protest the system that exploited and disregarded them. She saw that same revolution sweeping the globe, empowering billions, and forging an equitable, sustainable world for all. She saw herself and the Spree at the heart of it, working together to coordinate and direct the transition.

When Abigail opened her eyes, she felt more relaxed. Her rage, though still simmering under surface, had cooled from an inferno to her standard fire. For so many, her mission was literally a matter of life and death. So when a shitbird like _Scylla_ fooled around with that mission, of course Abigail couldn’t accept it. She could just hear her mother’s commanding voice: _we are doing something that matters. We matter. Don’t ever forget that._ By skipping orientation today, Scylla flaunted how little she cared about that mission. But Abigail already knew how little Scylla cared about the mission – she’d seen how ready she was to run away from her operation at the slightest hint of difficulty. Still, seeing Scylla’s disregard for the revolution irked her in a way that few things could. Every time Scylla flippantly disregarded the Spree’s plans, Abigail felt personally aggrieved. She’d given her whole life for the Spree, and it stung when a girl as bright and capable as Scylla acted so disrespectfully towards the sacrifice she and others had made for the sake of the cause. Abigail could be on track to be a rich woman right now, living the luxurious lifestyle her family’s heritage would more than afford her. But instead of sitting in a hot tub drinking champagne without a care in the world, Abigail was _here_ , holed up in an apartment with an absentee shitbird and a newbie. It was enough to make her want to scream.

“Hey,” Tally said, interrupting Abigail’s once-again chaotic thoughts. “Should we maybe call Scylla?”

“No,” Abigail snapped, continuing her pacing. “We’ll confront her when she gets here.”

“Are you okay?”

“ _Yes_. Scylla is just an inconsiderate, freewheeling shitbird. That’s all.” Abigail’s voice sounded harsh even to her own ears. A part of Abigail knew that her frustration shouldn’t be directed at Tally, but a much larger part of her relished the opportunity to let out some of the angst she felt pushing at her walls from the inside, screaming to get out.

At Abigail’s rebuke, Tally just widened her eyes and looked to the side. She lifted her hand as if to add something, but apparently changed her mind and let it fall to her side. Just then, the two heard the distinct sound of footsteps followed by the door opening and closing. Abigail’s head snapped towards the door, her eyes narrowing. She stomped over to it, squaring up with the doorway. She was glad to see it was just Scylla at the door.

“Where the hell have you been?” she raged. “None of that was optional. Your _absence_ was _noted_.” 

Scylla’s face was clear. A slight smile even played around her lips, _the bastard._ “I was getting to know one of the students.” She pushed her chin up to level with Abigail, narrowing her eyes in feigned concern. “That is what we’re here for, isn’t it?”

Abigail couldn’t stand the taunt. But since she didn’t have anything dignified to shoot back, she just let out a groan of frustration and walked back into the living room. She returned to the center area she’d been pacing in, lacing her arms across her chest with an angry sigh.

“Hey Tally,” Scylla greeted Tally as she followed Abigail into the living room.

“Hey Scylla,” Tally responded cheerily. Abigail had to resist the urge to let out another groan. In moments like these, Tally’s incessant niceness could be sickening.

Tally leaned towards from her position against one of the small kitchen’s counters. “So, who were you getting to know?”

Scylla approached her with a coy smile, leaning against a kitchen counter herself. _Was that a blush?_ Abigail thought. She had never known Scylla to blush. “Her name is Raelle. She’s from a rural area, and apparently has some hacking experience. She’s a promising lead.”

“That’s amazing! Great work!” Tally congratulated enthusiastically. “Well, I don’t mean to be curt, but now that you’re here we can talk about food.” Abigail suppressed a dry chuckle. She’d learned early on that Tally’s appetite was something to reckon with.

Scylla gave Tally an almost-guilty smile in response. “I actually told her that I’d be coming over for dinner tonight.”

Abigail snorted. “What, Ramshorn, are you trying to recruit her or are you trying to bed her?”

Scylla turned toward her with a sharp look in her eye. “I’m doing my job.”

Tally must have seen Abigail rile and open her mouth to let loose a barrage of insults, because she rapidly stepped in between the pair.

“Okay! Abigail, I know you’re hungry too.” Tally’s words came out in a rush as she glanced between Abigail and her smaller opponent. “This is good – this means that we can go ahead and go to the grocery store now.” Hands still in the air, Tally turned her head back towards Scylla. “Do you want anything?”

Scylla just waved dismally. “I don’t care. The money they give you doesn’t give you many options, anyways. If you guys are heading out, I’ll go ahead and take a shower.” She made to move towards the bathroom in the back of the apartment.

“Cleaning up for your hot date?” Abigail mocked as they passed. Scylla just flashed a smile that failed to fully hide the anger in her eyes.

As Abigail and Tally stepped outside into the warm air of the patio, the door shut behind them, Tally pulled Abigail aside. “Do you really have to do that?”

“Do what?” Abigail crossed her arms.

“Antagonize her like that. You never give her the benefit of the doubt.”

Abigail’s rage flared to the surface once again. “Okay, you know what? You don’t know what you’re talking about, Craven. I’ve seen Scylla’s real face. When the time came to risk herself for the Spree, she tried to run. She’s a disgrace.”

“Oh.” Tally sounded taken aback. “I didn’t realize.”

Abigail scoffed and strode towards the car, not waiting for Tally to take the lead.

“All of this happened right before they assigned you to me. I wasn’t even supposed to be a part of that mission,” Abigail said, glancing over her shoulder to check that Tally was indeed following her. She was. “It was supposed to be Porter, the guy she was allegedly involved with. But he went missing days before we left, so I got assigned last-minute.” Abigail paused at their junk car, pulling the keys out of her pocket.

“What happened?”

“Shit happened,” she barked. With a sigh, she got into the car and unlocked the door for Tally.

She put her hands on the steering wheel and collected herself enough to tell the story. “We were supposed to blow up an oil distribution center. That distribution center, if destroyed, would have halted a project that would destroy critical habitat and the livelihood of a First Nations village in Canada. Not to mention that the profits of the whole thing would go directly to the worst, most manipulative assholes in the world. But _because of Scylla,_ that distribution center didn’t blow. And the last I heard, construction on that pipeline is planned to continue.” Abigail fumed.

“But _even worse than that_ , Scylla’s cowardice meant that we left charges undetonated. They led the feds and their cronies straight to a Spree field unit outpost. We lost eight of our people that day, and it’s all her fault.” Abigail fumed.

“That was a month ago.” Her voice softened. “I was _there_ when it happened. I let my guard down around Scylla, and it cost us eight lives.” She turned towards Tally, who was watching her with wide eyes in the passenger seat.

“When the feds came, the Spree in that outpost fought to the last man. And for good measure, they rigged the place to blow to destroy all the records of past and planned operations they’d ran. They knew, as soon as they saw the feds, that there was no getting out of there. So, they gave up their lives rather than give up the Spree. Because _that’s_ what a _soldier_ does.” She blew her breath out in a huff, breaking contact with Tally’s eyes to instead look blankly out the windshield. 

“I knew some of them. They were my friends. The first couple of nights after, I couldn’t sleep. I kept seeing their faces in my nightmares, screaming as the bullets tore them to shreds, their skin blistering as the flames consumed them…” The guilt was like a hot knife in her chest, twisting with each new image flashing through her mind. _She’d_ been the one on the mission. But here she sat, living another day while her friends’ tattered bodies rotted in a cold, unmarked grave somewhere. They were paying for her sins, and there was nothing she would ever be able to do to make it better. Abigail gripped the steering wheel tightly as she felt a familiar wave of resentment towards Scylla, whose fault it was she was feeling this way at all.

“So. That’s why I have issues with Scylla. She made me an accessory to the murder of my friends.”

Satisfied and ready to be done talking, Abigail hastily started the car, wanting a distraction. Her mother had taught her evasive driving techniques; now seemed like as good a time as any to give them a whirl. She slammed on the gas to back up before shifting rapidly to slamming the brakes and ratcheting the gear stick into drive. The tires screeched as she floored it again, peeling out of the parking lot at a breakneck speed. A grin on her face, she looked over to see Tally gripping the handlebar above her head with a white-knuckled grip. Already, the adrenaline pumping through her friends was making her feel better. If she was going to be alive, she may as well take advantage of it where she could.

“It’s good to stay sharp!” she hooted as she weaved through traffic. Tally nodded, though she didn’t relax until Abigail slowed down to the pace of traffic. “You never know when you’re going to need to run from the law,” Abigail teased, feeling better after having gotten that all out. “If this gig takes long enough, I can show you how to do some of that.” Though apprehensive, Tally returned Abigail’s smile.

Hot water coursed over Scylla’s shoulders, soothing her. Scylla had always loved a good hot shower. During some of the worst weeks of her life, the hot water had been an adequate stand-in for her mother’s hugs. Memories of that time hit her with a pang. Her relationship with her parents had been strained before then, it’s true. But when they were taken from her without warning, when they were on the precipice of actually making a difference and keeping their promise to Scylla, she’d realized how shallow their conflicts really were. When Scylla had looked down with tears in her eyes at the bodies of her mother and father, she’d realized with an acute anguish everything she hadn’t noticed she had. She hadn’t realized her mother’s love, that flowed as easily as the warmth from the sun, was a precious rarity in a hate-filled world. Hadn’t realized that her father’s firm hands and words of wisdom had filled her with confidence and hope. Hadn’t realized just how badly she wanted to show them everything she could do, everything she could become.

Scylla looked back on her meandering thoughts with bitterness. Sometimes, it felt like her mind had become a broken record player. No matter how hard she tried, she always found herself coming back to the same topics. _The greatest hits_ , she thought wryly. In the past month, she’d added two new topics to the mix. An involuntary chill ran down her spine as she considered them. Scylla squinted her eyes and pointed her face into the shower’s blast, trying to physically wash the thoughts from her mind. _Focus on something else_ , she thought. _How about Raelle?_

Thinking about the beautiful blonde she’d met earlier was almost enough to let her forget about her other troubles. In just one day, Raelle had introduced a whole new laundry list of things for Scylla to worry about. For one, her sexuality. Scylla put shampoo in her palm, lathering up her hair as she considered what she knew. She knew that touching Raelle, even for the briefest of moments, had felt electric. She knew that looking into those bright blue eyes made her feel a warmth she thought she’d lost with her parents. And she knew that so far, Raelle bore some striking similarities to the mark she had been sent here for.

Scylla ran her fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp. What if Raelle was her mark? If Scylla was being honest, that had not been on her mind when she skipped out on the orientation to follow her yesterday. Yes, it was an excuse she threw in Abigail’s face. But in reality, she’d simply been feeling rebellious and intrigued by the sight of Raelle. She hadn’t really meant to be doing the work she was assigned. Though she had always been an enthusiastic and effective member of the Spree, in the past few months she’d been unable to avoid the doubts gnawing at the edges of her mind. It all began when Scylla and Porter were first assigned to that fateful mission that had gone so wrong.

Scylla squinted her eyes, bringing her face to the water stream once again to stop _that_ train of thoughts in its tracks. The takeaway of the thought, she decided, was that she wasn’t sure she trusted the Spree anymore. What happened with that mission felt a lot like betrayal. Maybe that was something she told herself to ease her anguish, but Scylla’s gut rarely betrayed her. If she had to put money on it, she’d say it had something to do with Commander Bellweather. Scylla brought her hands to her face, anxiously massaging her temples with the hot water. Of course, if Bellweather was a double agent, she’d be unable to escape her while living with her annoying, suck-up daughter.

If Scylla could no longer trust the Spree, could she still work for them? Even if she could, could she turn Raelle into their care? Though Scylla scarcely knew the girl, her gut told her that Raelle had a good heart. Did good hearts belong with the Spree anymore? Scylla’s thoughts turned to Tally, the hapless recruit who got stuck with Abigail out here looking for a hacker. _Babysitting me,_ Scylla thought with disgust. _Or is it something else?_ Did Bellweather send Abigail out here to watch Scylla, or did she want her out of the way of the rest of the Spree? Scylla’s heart dropped at the thought. If Bellweather had betrayed Scylla’s entire field unit a month ago, what would stop her from betraying the rest of the organization? And, if that was something she would do, wouldn’t it make sense for her to send her precious baby out on an undocumented, unsupervised mission out in the middle of nowhere, thousands of miles from Spree bases?

Scylla leaned her forehead against the shower wall, letting the water wash over her back. _Shit._ Scylla didn’t know what to do with this disturbing revelation. Even if it wasn’t true, which Scylla desperately hoped was the case, Scylla still had to assume that Abigail were the extended eyes and ears of her potentially treacherous mother. _But she saved me_ , a part of her protested. Scylla recalled the fierce look on Abigail’s face as she’d turned back for Scylla. One of the guards had put his arms around Scylla’s waist, squeezing the air out of her. Abigail must have heard her cry of surprise and pain, because she’d whipped around immediately. The gut-wrenching _crunch_ of the unexpecting guard’s nose right next to Scylla’s ear when Abigail sent her fist into his face was hard to forget. Scylla had used that moment of distraction to free herself of the guard and continue her escape with Abigail. Of course, Abigail had insulted and scolded Scylla up, down and sideways as soon as they were free from immediate capture. And yet, at the moment of truth, she’d still saved Scylla. _I know things. She saved me for the same reason my field unit killed themselves. We’re dangerous to the Spree_ , Scylla rationalized. Still, she couldn’t help but think something more had motivated Abigail.

Scylla jumped back from the shower with a cry as the water suddenly turned scalding hot. Huddled in a corner of the shower, she scowled accusatorily at the showerhead. How much longer would she have to be here? If Raelle was her mark and Scylla didn’t trust Commander Bellweather to give her up, what exactly was she to do? She could delay, continue a phony search for the mark amongst other students. She could make more time to get to know Raelle, insisting that she was a hard egg to crack. Scylla smiled at the thought. It was the most appealing thought she’d had since her return to the apartment.

Scylla held out a hesitant hand to test the water’s temperature. To her relief, it had cooled back down to its previous temperature. Alright, then. For now, she was just going to get to know Raelle. If she _was_ the mark they were sent to find, she’d keep that to herself. Keep Raelle to herself. _I could do a lot in six months._ Scylla smiled again. With one nagging question resolved for the moment, Scylla tried to let herself relax into the shower and think about what awaited her at dinner with Raelle tonight.

“That’ll be $27.63.” The clerk’s voice was monotonous. Leaning against the register, his eyes flicked behind Raelle to the handful of locals waiting with their groceries. Raelle fumbled with her wallet, pulling out her cash. He looked on at her with disinterest as she counted out her money. Handing the bills over to him felt like defeat; she knew it had taken her almost two hours of work to earn those bills. And the things she’d bought all fit into one measly grocery bag. Things here were much more expensive for less quantity than what she was used to at the country store back home.

Her grocery bag in tow, Raelle headed back towards her apartment. Prices aside, that was one thing that she already liked about her new home – she was just a short walk away from a grocery store, a park, a gym, and a movie theater. Not that she’d pay for a gym membership or movie tickets. Well, maybe movie tickets on a rare occasion. _Maybe on a date with Scylla_ , she thought with a smile. _Tonight is a date, right?_ She hadn’t explicitly asked, but it had seemed implied. Then again, though, Raelle didn’t want to overstep. Especially since she’d just met this girl today.

Raelle smiled as she returned to her apartment. It was on one of the old streets downtown, nestled above an old shop advertising itself as a florist/apothecary. It was an old brick building, one of the historic vestiges of old Salem. She took the narrow door to the side of the shop, appreciating the worn look of the stairs nestled between mottled brick walls. It was a tiny studio apartment with some definite quirks, but Raelle already loved it. For one thing, it was _hers_. This was the first home she had to herself. Not only did that mean complete independence, but it also gave her a level of separation from the life and memories that had haunted the house she grew up in. She didn’t see her mother’s face in the walls of this apartment. Though memories of her mother could be comforting, they often led to darker places than she would like.

When Raelle got into her apartment, she put the groceries away in her tiny kitchen’s old-timey refrigerator. All of the appliances looked like they were from the 50s, giving the place a vintage feel. Raelle glanced out on the apartment’s two windows to watch as a stray delivery truck trundled along the street below her. It was louder than back home, that was true. But so far, Raelle found the gentle hum of the city comforting. Something besides silence, at least. Raelle glanced at the clock: 4:30. Still plenty of time for a shower and some food prep.

“Alright, so what does our budget look like?” Tally inquired, leaning on the handle of the cart she’d grabbed at the entrance.

“The standard Spree rate when we’re out is $3 a day. They call it per diem. But _I_ call that criminal,” Abigail responded haughtily.

Tally pursed her lips, doing the math in her head. That meant they had $270 to spend on food for the three of them in a month. “So, how much are we going to spend today? How many days’ worth of food are we going to get?”

Abigail waved a dismal hand, still not looking back at Tally. “Let’s just get some food.”

Tally rolled her eyes, grateful that Abigail was predisposed. “Whatever you say, boss,” she muttered, low enough that Abigail wouldn’t hear. Tally had to admit, she was not particularly impressed with the Spree thus far. Abigail ordered her around like a pet, scarcely stopping to actually explain many of the workings of the Spree Tally was interested in. Tally had grown up hearing stories of her aunts’ daring escapades in the Spree, fighting an unjust system and sticking up for disregarded groups. Of course, they’d all spent years in prison for their escapades. Tally’s mother had been the only one that stayed out, the only one that was able to have a normal life. Tally could still hear her mother now, pleading for her to stay out of the Spree and finish her undergraduate degree. But Tally had ignored her, insisting that she had a moral obligation to do things that working within an unjust system simply could not achieve. Looking at Abigail’s back as they walked through a run-down grocery store, though, that idea seemed foolish now even to Tally. _Whatever_. Tally was new; she was paying her dues to the organization right now. If she did well on this first mission, she’d have a chance of climbing the ranks and earning her own place amongst the Spree. In the meantime, she just had to manage to get along with Commander Bellweather’s unwaveringly annoying daughter.

“Over here,” Abigail beckoned, putting a hand on Tally’s cart to steer it towards the produce section.

“Shouldn’t we be focused on bulk foods? Rice, potatoes, canned beans, stuff like that?”

Abigail rolled her eyes this time. “If I’m here, we’re going to be eating well. Trust me.” Tally frowned, but went along with Abigail’s lead without another question. Abigail stocked up on fruits and vegetables first before adding eggs, cheese, sandwich materials, pasta, sauce, and finally the bulk foods Tally had recommended. By the end, the cart was almost overflowing with food.

As they approached the cash register, Tally looked on anxiously. She was certain they’d just about spent half of their monthly budget, maybe more, on a week or so worth of food. When the clerk turned the till screen to face them, Tally saw that she was right. Abigail, however, didn’t seem to notice and paid up with a perfectly cheery disposition. Tally held her tongue; it would be inappropriate to talk about Spree finances in front of random people. As they pulled away and headed towards their car, though, Tally pulled Abigail aside.

“So, we’re already over budget on food,” she protested.

Abigail sighed. “No, we’re not. And if we go over, anyways, I’ll handle it.”

“You’ll pay for it yourself?”

“I’ll _handle it_.” Abigail’s voice was harsh this time. 

Tally stepped back, lifting her hands in defense. “Okay. Whatever.”

What did Abigail mean by that? Maybe Commander Bellweather gave Abigail special spending privileges. Tally’s lip curled at the thought; it was so antithetical to the ideals of the Spree she had heard articulated elsewhere in her orientation to the organization. Tally was quiet on the drive back to the shared apartment.

When the pair brought the groceries up to their apartment, Scylla emerged from the bathroom with makeup on and her hair looking sleek. Tally’s eyes widened – she looked _hot._ When she saw them and their grocery haul, the dark-haired girl quirked an eyebrow.

“I didn’t expect for food prices to be so good out here,” Scylla commented. Tally made eye contact with her to roll her eyes, at which Scylla’s lips curled into a smile. Though Abigail had told Tally earlier that Scylla was a coward and a traitor, it wasn’t the read she’d gotten of her in their interactions. If anything, Tally already trusted Scylla as much or more than Abigail. She made a mental note to ask Scylla about her side of the story Abigail had told. Without it, she wasn’t quite sure who to believe.

“I thought you were leaving,” Abigail shot back at her.

“I am. I was just heading out now.”

“Do you need the car?” Tally asked.

Scylla smiled. “No. Raelle will be picking me up any minute now.” She checked the time on her flip-phone. Just then, a confident knock at the door caught all three girls’ attention. Scylla’s smile only grew. “Right on time. Alright. Well, I’ll see you two later.”

“Tonight?” Abigail asked.

“Later,” Scylla repeated. Tally quirked her head with a smile. Maybe Abigail’s jokes earlier hadn’t been that far off the mark, after all.

Abigail laughed contemptuously. “Okay, _Scylla_. Just don’t be late for classes tomorrow.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Scylla replied in a voice like silk. As she opened the door, Tally and Abigail got a glance at Raelle. She was about the same size as Scylla, with a head of short, pale blond hair and an interesting face with fine features. She was dressed simply, wearing a black bomber jacket over a white shirt and black pants with black and white vans. Tally smiled. Yeah, maybe Scylla would be staying the night after all.

“Hi,” Scylla breathed as she faced Raelle. She didn’t stop to introduce Raelle to Tally or Abigail, though; instead, she just took her hand and led her outside. She let the door crash behind them.

Tally turned to look at Abigail, a smile on her lips. Abigail looked taken aback, still angry but also incredulous and amused. “Is Scylla… gay?” Tally asked.

Abigail chuckled, putting her hands up as thought to recuse herself. “Not to my knowledge. But, uh, I think Raelle is,” she laughed.

Tally giggled herself. “In either case, I guess we’ll find out soon. Come on, let’s get these groceries put away.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! Kudos and comments are very much appreciated :)


	4. the way out is in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scylla goes over to Raelle's apartment for ramen and sake. Bonding time ensues ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's baaaaack! sorry for the long wait - I sort of lost interest in my interpretive pursuits for a while. but I'm back and into it! not gonna lie, I was scared to dip my toes into the smut. but I did! enjoy

“You weren’t kidding about the ramen.”

Raelle laughed and smiled that genuine smile of hers that put dimples in her cheeks and creases around her eyes. “I never kid about ramen.”

Scylla looked at the bowl of ramen below her, complete with an egg, chopped green onions, peppers, bean sprouts, and teriyaki sauce. It tasted even better than it looked. After years of eating on the poorly-funded Spree diet, the dish was a refreshing change of pace.

“Where did you learn to cook like this?” Scylla asked in between her happy slurps.

“Well, my dad’s idea of cooking was just fried eggs, sandwiches, and pasta. So, if I wanted any variety, I had to learn to cook for myself.”

“Well then, here’s to you being independent,” Scylla toasted, lifting her glass of sake. She was glad now that she’d insisted Raelle stop at a liquor store to let her contribute to the dinner. It had taken digging into her savings to buy it, but, judging by the light warmth in Scylla’s cheeks it was already worth it. Raelle made her nervous in a way she couldn’t quite pinpoint and the buzz helped her to act more like herself. Plus, it could make the night interesting in other ways. 

“And here’s to you bringing sake. I’ve actually never had it before.” Raelle lifted her own glass, bringing it to her nose to smell.

“No, don’t smell it,” Scylla laughed, reaching out to swat Raelle’s glass away from her face. “Rule number one of alcohol – never smell it.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah! Otherwise you won’t want to drink it.”

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” Raelle laughed.

“Maybe a little.” Scylla gave her a coy look over her glass as she took a sip of her sake. “Just enough for some fun.”

Raelle quirked an eyebrow at Scylla as she took her first sip of the sake. She made a face, and Scylla giggled.

“What do you think of it?”

“I think I better not smell it.” They both laughed at that, returning to their ramen.

They ate for a few minutes, stealing glances at each other as they devoured the fast-cooling feast.

“So why did you think sake for tonight?”

“My parents used to show it to me. We’d get a sushi feast and they’d let me have a sip. I didn’t like it much then, either,” Scylla said without thinking.

Raelle looked at her, her face softening. “Are your parents still around?”

Scylla’s eyes flicked to Raelle’s. She opened her mouth to speak, but her throat felt thick with sudden emotion. Instead, she just shook her head and took another sip of sake.

“I’m so sorry, Scyll.” Raelle reached across the table to put her hand over Scylla’s.

Scylla put her other hand on the pile. “Thank you.” Her voice sounded soft even to her own ears.

“I… I lost my mom five years ago. Unexpectedly.” Raelle’s voice cracked.

“I’m sorry, too.” Scylla gave Raelle’s hand a light squeeze. She felt a pang when Raelle withdrew her hand.

“To still being here ourselves,” Raelle toasted, raising her sake.

“I’ll drink to that,” Scylla laughed nervously, clinking their glasses before finishing off her glass. Raelle’s eyes widened over her own drink at the sight, but she, too, kept drinking until her cup was empty.

“If you’re going to try to get me drunk, we’re going to need a little more sake,” Raelle announced, refilling both hers and Scylla’s glasses.

Later, after more sake and dinner conversation that stuck to lighter topics, the pair moved to the apartment’s small, sparse living quarters. Raelle hadn’t been able to get a couch yet, so for now they were just seated cross-legged on a thick quilt Raelle laid out on the floor for them.

“Nice, open floorplan you have here,” Scylla joked. Besides a closet-sized bathroom, the apartment was all one room. The bed, adjacent to the living space, opened directly into the small kitchen area. There were no borders inside the apartment save for the bathroom corner. Raelle just smiled and laughed. She’d been smiling for the past half hour or so, so every additional smile just added dimples and eye creases that seldom failed to make Scylla’s heart flutter.

“What can I say? I like to keep an eye on the place. And besides, this is the first place I’ve ever had to myself. I think it could be a closet and I’d still be happy with it.”

“Oh, are you sure about that?” Scylla joked. “You don’t really strike me as the closet type.”

“I could make it work. I’d definitely fit in there,” Raelle shot back, taking another sip of her drink. By now, Scylla could see a faint blush in Raelle’s cheeks and neck.

“Your plan is hot garbage,” Scylla laughed.

“But at least it’s hot.” Raelle smirked.

“You’d waste all that youth, and beauty, in a closet?”

Raelle’s eyes shot up to Scylla’s as she once again became acutely aware of the distance between them.

“Yeah, well, lucky for both of us I don’t live in a closet. And I never would. I live here, and I’m officially a student in the Fort Salem Code School.” Raelle took another sip and leaned back. Scylla felt the tension dissipate with a degree of disappointment. The angst that had taken its place seemed worth following, though.

“What, exactly, are you doing here?”

“Like, existentially?” Raelle laughed.

“At Fort Salem Code School.”

Raelle blew out a breath. “Well, I can’t say it’s exactly what I would have chosen for myself to be doing.”

“What would you have chosen to do?”

“I…” she held her hand out in an empty gesture before letting it fall limply to her side. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I want. I have a job back home, but there’s no way I want to keep riding _that_ pony. I know I want to do something with my life, but… I need to make money. I need to be able to take care of myself, to be able to take care of my dad.” Her eyes glanced away as though she had to stop herself from saying more.

“So? With your savvy, that should be no problem. There are tons of tech jobs out there making six figures just waiting for someone like you to claim them,” Scylla pressed.

“And do what? Feed into a corrupt system? The money in tech jobs, the really good ones, at least, goes straight to the top. To the biggest assholes of them all. Buying from them empowers them, which is bad enough, but working for them _serves_ them. And with the things I’ve seen, there’s no way I can live with that,” Raelle seethed. It was obvious to Scylla that this was something deep for Raelle, something that gnawed at her. 

“So, don’t work for them,” Scylla offered.

Raelle just scoffed. “Yeah, okay. Everything feeds into it somewhere. Even the call center where I work is a subsidiary of some conglomerate owned by some group of assholes I’ll never know,” Raelle gestured wildly, her cheeks pink with passion and a buzz. “Oh, and if I _do_ want to know, I’m bound to get an inside look into how rotten they really are.” Raelle looked morose. Scylla wanted to say something, but it seemed like there was more Raelle wanted to say.

“Even if this stuff didn’t bother me, if I could just get a good job and get to setting up my nice little life. Even if I do it all ‘right’,” Raelle air-quoted, “it could still all mean nothing. My mom was a _doctor_ with a _family_ and that didn’t mean anything when it came down to it. She’s still dead now because of some… asshole.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that,” Scylla said softly. She wasn’t exactly sure where she was going with this; Raelle and Scylla were both feeling a similar pain. Scylla herself wasn’t sure she’d resolved it – how did she think she’d show Raelle how to?

“Yeah, well, I hate to break it to you beautiful, but there’s no way out.” Raelle’s voice was hard.

Scylla set her glass down. “I know a way.”

Maybe Scylla didn’t have an ultimate answer, but she did have a way to cope in the moment. Her heart beating in her throat, she put a hand on Raelle’s shoulder and leaned forward to finally close the distance between them. Raelle’s lips were softer than she’d expected. Though she’d known she’d wanted to kiss Raelle, Scylla was shocked by just how _right_ it felt. When she pulled back, Raelle looked dazed. After a moment, Raelle leaned forward to cup her hands around either side of Scylla’s face and pull their lips together again. Scylla felt her blood rush through as her heart rate picked up.

Kissing Raelle felt _powerful_ , like there was energy crackling all around them. Within seconds, Raelle took Scylla by surprise by pushing her down onto the quilt below them, taking one of her hands away from Scylla’s head to steady herself against her hip. The pressure of Raelle’s hand on her hip sent a jolt through Scylla that went straight to her core. Raelle bit and sucked at Scylla’s lips before moving to leave feather-light kisses along her jaw. When she nipped Scylla’s earlobe, she felt herself draw in an audible gasp. Raelle pulled away at the sound, just enough for Scylla to catch sight of her slight smirk.

“Tell me.” Raelle dove back in to kiss Scylla’s neck after the words, sending Scylla spinning again. She floundered, trying to remember what she’d told Raelle. _A way out_ , she dimly recollected. Scarcely able to come up with a complete sentence, Scylla decided to just say what the Spree had told her. It was cryptic enough to still mean something, anyways.

“Let them train you.” Raelle’s other hand laced into Scylla’s hair, pulling her head back and down as she continued to nip and suck on her neck. Scylla’s breath shuddered. “Let them make you powerful.” Raelle seemed to nod, moving her head down to Scylla’s collarbone. At the same time, she shifted her other hand from Scylla’s hips to undo the belt holding up her pants. The touch brought on another wave of excitement that she had to fight to control. She still had more to say.

“The way over, is under.” Scylla’s hands flew to Raelle’s back as her skillful hands began working right where she wanted her.

Raelle pulled back from Scylla’s neck to look down at her, that same smile on her face. “Okay,” she prompted.

“The way out is…” Raelle’s hand pushed under Scylla’s panties, exploring new territory. Scylla floundered at the sensation. She wanted to let herself be taken over by everything she was feeling – she just needed to get the last two damn words out. “Is in,” she finally finished. Raelle, _of course_ , seemed to take that as a challenge. Scylla had to stifle a whimper as Raelle thrust her fingers into her.

“Sounds good to me,” Raelle grunted, leaning into her ministrations.

Just minutes later, Scylla came undone in Raelle’s fingers. Raelle teased the orgasm out, wrapping an arm around Scylla and nipping at the spot she found near Scylla’s collarbone that always made her shudder. In the last moment, Scylla pulled Raelle down to her face for a bruising kiss.

“Goddess, Raelle,” Scylla breathed, brushing a strand of white-blond hair from her lover’s face.

“’The way out is in?’” Raelle quoted back at her. “If that isn’t a pick-up line….”

Scylla laughed, smacking her arm lightheartedly. “As if by that point, _I_ was the one picking _you_ up.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’m the one that does the picking up around here.” At the words, Raelle sat up and shifted into a kneeling position. She reached for Scylla’s hands, pulling her up until she was sitting before lacing her hands behind her head. “You ready?” she asked. Scylla just nodded silently, enjoying the closeness with Raelle.

“One… two…,” Raelle grunted, reaching behind Scylla to grab her ass.

“Making another move?” Scylla laughed. She braced herself in surprise as Raelle suddenly lifted them both up. Scylla’s arms were around her neck, and her legs around her waist. Desire rushed through her at the position. A small whimper tumbled out of her before she could think to stop it.

“Just to the bed,” Raelle growled, apparently encouraged.

Raelle literally threw Scylla down onto the bed. Before Scylla could miss her presence, Raelle was back, pressing their bodies together as she let her hands explore. Scylla let her own hands wander this time, enjoying the wiry strength beneath her fingertips. Still, she wanted more. She tugged on the hem of Raelle’s shirt, trying to lift it up. Raelle seemed to take the hint, because she sat up to take it off and toss it to the side.

“Yours too,” she breathed as she returned to her position above Scylla’s body. Scylla obeyed breathlessly. “And your pants this time,” Raelle smiled. Raelle helped her to shimmy the tight pants down, laughing as they got stuck on her feet. Once they were off, she took one of Scylla’s legs in her hand. She let her fingertips trace lazy patterns all the way from her ankles to the insides of Scylla’s thigh. By that point, Scylla was squirming with desire and aching to touch Raelle again. When Raelle had made it up to her hips, Scylla reached down to grab her wrists and pull her decisively up towards her head. Raelle went with the motion, letting Scylla take advantage of the opportunity to push her over and get on top. Straddling Raelle with her thighs, she reached up to pin her wrists down against the sheets. Raelle’s eyes were wide, her mouth parted slightly with desire.

“My turn,” Scylla purred. 

“Whoah,” Scylla gasped.

“I’ll say,” Raelle affirmed.

The pair were sprawled out across the bed – naked, exhausted, and tangled up in each other.

“What time is it?” Raelle asked, stirring.

“No,” Scylla protested, pulling Raelle closer.

“Alright.” They both smiled as Raelle pulled Scylla into a tight embrace. Scylla nestled in closer to the crook of Raelle’s neck, sighing dreamily as Raelle dragged her fingertips lazily along the bare skin of her back.

“I haven’t felt this good in a while. I’d like to stay in this moment a little longer, if that’s alright with you.”

“Yeah, that’s alright with me.” Raelle placed a gentle kiss on Scylla’s forehead. She turned her head to kiss Raelle’s neck in appreciation. They stayed that way for a while, until Raelle finally broke the silence.

“I guess you’re right, that the way out is in,” Raelle laughed. “I definitely don’t feel mad anymore.”

Scylla chuckled. “I have found it to be of help from time to time.”

“What about ‘the way over is under’? That seems a little more cryptic.”

“It is, I guess. But I think that it means some fights happen below the surface. Out of sight. And that sometimes those are the fights that need to be happening.” Scylla’s fingers, tracing small circles on Raelle’s shoulder, sped up with her internal agitation as her thoughts turned back towards the Spree. Maybe it had been a mistake to use their words to initiate something actually relaxing.

Raelle sighed. “Yeah, I guess I could see that.”

Scylla winced. Her mind was reeling with the same issues that had been tormenting her, plus the new ones she’d stumbled into when she met this beautiful girl. “What time _is_ it?” she asked, disentangling herself from Raelle to reach for her phone.

Scylla stifled a chuckle at the numbers that lit up her screen.

“I guess we’ve been here a while. It’s nearly 1 am.”

“What? No way,” Raelle exclaimed, sitting up to look at Scylla’s phone over her shoulder. “Crazy,” she murmured, using the proximity to leave a feather-light kisses on Scylla’s exposed neck.

“I should probably be heading out,” Scylla sighed, enjoying the shivers running down her back as Raelle continued her gentle ministrations.

“ _Baby, it’s cold outside_ ,” Raelle murmured in a sing-song voice. She nibbled at Scylla’s ear to emphasize the message.

“My coworkers will be expecting me.”

“ _Baby, it’s cold outside_.” Raelle’s arms encircled Scylla’s waist.

“We both have to be at class tomorrow. I don’t have a change of clothes, or even a toothbrush.”

“ _Baby, it’s cold outside_.” Raelle tangled her fingers in Scylla’s hair and used the grip to pull her head to the side, exposing her pulse point for her to nip and suck. Despite what she had thought to be exhaustion, Scylla’s willpower was fading fast. “We can get up early and get you a toothbrush. And you can borrow clothes if you want.”

“Oh, so I’ll have a toothbrush here already?” Scylla teased.

“I think we’ll need to do a lot of late-night studying,” Raelle chuckled.

_Well, alright then,_ Scylla thought. She sent Tally a quick text letting her she’d be staying the night and turned to give Raelle her full attention.


	5. bean there, done that

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first day of classes at Fort Salem coding boot camp. Tally meets Glory and Gerit, Abigail meets Libba, Raelle meets Byron, and Scylla takes a stroll down memory lane. Featuring bean puns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when it rains, it pours! thanks for continuing to tune in :)

“So what we can do is… take this string here… and plug it into this conditional. So now the computer will run through, searching…”

Tally’s eyes were locked on the whiteboard, her back ramrod straight. Her posture betrayed the reality that she was having difficulty focusing on the instructor. This was _basic_ material – stuff that even she already knew. Only a few people in the classroom were paying attention; probably almost everyone had enough experience to be bored by this basic review. The instructor’s droning voice and apparent refusal to make eye contact with his pupils didn’t exactly make the material engaging, either. Tally tapped her pencil against the open page of her notebook. So far, all it had on it was the date neatly scrawled in the upper right-hand corner of the lines. That, and the page number (2) in the uppermost corner. The first page was reserved for the table of contents. She may be here on a recruitment mission, but Tally did not intend to let the chance to learn coding languages and software development pass her by. She was more than capable of multitasking.

She let her eyes wander around the room as she took a sip from her water bottle. She spluttered a little bit when she accidentally made eye contact with the cute boy along the wall. All day, she’d had a hard time keeping her eyes from landing and staying on him on their trips around the room. Catching her splutter, he smiled shyly and looked back towards the instructor. Tally set her bottle down and brough a hand to her mouth in embarrassment. _Great first impression._

Tally avoided looking at him for the rest of class. She was here to look for a girl, anyways, she reasoned.

Instead, she exchanged exasperated glances with some of the people nearest to her. One girl – who had dark skin, a round face, and eyes that gleamed with warmth – was particularly responsive. By the end of class, they were whispering jokes to each other. When the class finally ended (marked only by the instructor glancing at his watch and shuffling away from the whiteboard), the girl stood up and fixed Tally with an amused smile.

“Finally! I thought I was going to die if he repeated the exact same definition of recursive formulas one more time,” she bubbled.

“I know, right! Like come on, we get the picture,” Tally agreed. “I’m Tally, by the way.” She held out her hand.

“My name is Glory,” the other girl laughed, giving Tally’s extended hand one firm handshake. “Well Tally, I think you may have an admirer,” Glory whispered conspiratorially with a suggestive glance over Tally’s shoulder.

“Hi. I’m Gerit!”

Tally turned around in surprise to see the boy from earlier looking at her with a hand outstretched and a big, warm smile on his face. She shook it hesitantly, a little starstruck. Gerit was _handsome_. He was taller than Tally, with jet-black hair, a squarish jaw, smooth skin, and teeth that positively gleamed. She didn’t miss the width of his shoulders or the athleticism of his stance, either. _Wow._

“Tally,” she finally managed to get out.

Glory, perhaps seeing Tally’s struggle to find any more words, came around to introduce herself as well.

“Come on! Let’s all sit together in the next class!” Glory urged. Tally and Gerit just nodded, exchanging shy glances.

As they walked away, Glory leaned in to whisper in Tally’s ear. “Now _that_ is not what I would expect to find in a _coding bootcamp_.” Tally suppressed a giggle and nodded in enthusiastic agreement, stealing a glance at the _that_ in question.

“Can anyone tell me the result of this formula?”

Abigail’s hand shot up in the air, poised to deliver the answer.

“42.” The voice from behind her that beat her to the punch was clear, loud, and absolutely dripping with a sort of bored superiority. Miffed, Abigail’s eyes darted over to its source. She was sitting in the back of the classroom (near Scylla – a bad sign). Her black combat boots rested on the desk in front of her, crossed with defiant comfort. Her surprisingly delicate features were topped off with a mop of unkempt black curls that seemed to match the rest of her appearance. Abigail turned her attention back to the instructor with a slight _harumph_. She wasn’t about to satisfy that miscreant’s obvious need for attention.

“Yes. Excellent.” The instructor seamlessly returned to his lesson.

“You know, you could do the same thing in about half the lines if you just made your conditionals clearer.” The whole class turned to glance at her with this addition.

The instructor was little less enthusiastic about her speaking up this time. He turned to her with his brows furrowed, looking back at the messy code he’d left upon the whiteboard. Abigail’s own brow furrowed as she tried to figure out what the mystery miscreant meant, and how or even _if_ it would work. Satisfied that she didn’t see it, she snorted and concluded that it didn’t exist. She could at least take comfort in the fact that this girl had just embarrassed herself in front of this entire class.

“Do tell,” the instructor grumbled, holding out the pen in his hand as an invitation for the girl to show her work.

The girl huffed in audible displeasure before lazily making her way to the front of the classroom. She hastily scrawled a few lines of code onto the board before shoving the pen into the instructor’s chest and her hands into the pockets of her oversized black button-down shirt. She made eye contact with Abigail as she swaggered back to her seat. She seemed to notice the smug look on Abigail’s face because she blew her an exaggerated kiss. Abigail clenched her fists but refused to let her face show any reaction. She looked up at the board, trying to find the error in the girls’ work. To her chagrin, though, her code _worked_. Just then, the instructor turned around with a smile.

“Excellent work. I’ve been teaching with this formula for six years and I never noticed I could have done that. Of course, the intention here is to _teach_ , not necessarily to be the most efficient. Still, great work. You should do well with these courses as the material progresses. What’s your name?”

“Libba. Libba Swythe.”

Abigail’s cheeks burned with heat. This _Libba_ had one-upped her. It felt personal. Abigail did not take well to losing. She was a Bellweather, after all. Bellweathers end up on top, no matter what. She made a promise to herself to show up this Libba girl as soon as the opportunity presented itself. For now, she just grit her teeth and leaned harder into the lesson.

Scylla sat at the back of the classroom, watching the instructor with her chin perched on her crossed arms. She knew some of this material, but much of it was also new. Still, the instructor was awful and she was tired from last night. And a little sore. And still a little turned on. Altogether, not a great recipe for rapt attention over hours of lecture-style learning.

When she caught herself asleep, she picked herself up off the table and looked around to try to wake herself up. As she did, a girl a few seats over caught her eye. She was in all black, with big black combat boots propped up on her desk. Her demeanor suggested pent-up aggression of some kind. _I bet she and High and Mighty would hit it off_ , she thought dryly. The girl seemed to notice Scylla’s observation, because she flashed her a questioning, nearly-flirtatious smile. Scylla just smiled back and looked away. If Raelle wasn’t the mark, this girl might be. She definitely fit the profile of someone lashing out in anger, someone who felt they had little to lose. _A perfect recruit for the Spree._ The thought made Scylla wince. After all, that was what had made her a perfect recruit for the Spree two years ago.

“Can anyone tell me the result of this formula?”

Scylla looked up, trying to read through the formula on the board. It was significantly more complex than what they’d been working on previously – a challenge problem. She moved to her notebook to try to figure out the logic and calculations it would take. Within seconds though, Scylla saw Abigail’s eager hand shoot up from her position at the front of the class. But right before the instructor could give her permission to spill the answer Dark Mystery Girl to Scylla’s right spoke out in a clear, confident, and semi-belligerent voice.

“42.”

Scylla delighted in the sight of Abigail’s head snapping back towards the girl with a murderous expression on her face. She didn’t bother to cover her smile.

“Yes, excellent.” The professor turned back to the board.

“You know, you could do the same thing in about half the lines if you just made your conditionals clearer.”

The professor bumbled about for a few moments before calling the girl up to clarify. When she wrote something on the board that even Scylla could tell was far more elegant than the instructor’s work, Scylla took note. If nothing else, this girl was clearly bright. And a definite candidate for the mark they were after. And judging by the way she blew a kiss at what Scylla could only guess was an aggressively pouty Abigail, she could be someone she could come to enjoy. When she sauntered back to her seat, Scylla gave her a coy smile.

She was still here on a recruitment mission, after all. If this girl was the mark, she might be able to feel better about getting closer to Raelle without putting her in danger. Or, even if she wasn’t, it might provide her some cover to get closer to Raelle and time to figure out just what she was going to do.

Raelle leaned back in her chair, trying to count the number of speckles on the ceiling tiles above her. She was at 144 so far. The instructor droned on, continuing his lecture on the basics of Java that Raelle learned a half dozen years ago. Though she’d been keeping an ear out for anything new, she was growing increasingly frustrated. Without meaning to, she let her eyes droop and her mind begin to wander.

Immediately, images of Scylla flashed behind her eyes. Clearly, the events of last night were still fresh in her mind. Her eyes snapped open and she leaned forward in her chair, sucking in a rapid breath. The guy next to her glanced over at the sudden racket and Raelle’s cheeks reddened. With _that_ popping up in her thoughts, she’d had an extra hard time keeping her head on her first day of classes. She tried to shut them down as soon as they started; she knew that if she let those thoughts wander, she wouldn’t be able to think about Java again for the rest of the day.

For several more minutes, Raelle let her eyes wander around the room, searching for something that could hold her attention and keep her away from the R-rated thoughts fighting for dominance. _Fighting for dominance_. That thought alone sent a shiver down her spine. Raelle held out only a few moments longer before giving in and letting herself relive the activities of Monday night. She savored one image that she thought she might never forget – Scylla, her bare form splayed out beneath her and asking for more. Rosy cheeked, messy-haired, wild-eyed.

Class went much faster when Raelle let her thoughts wander.

At the end of the period, the instructor unceremoniously announced that it was time for lunch and left the classroom. Raelle looked to the guy next to her. Since she’d missed orientation, she wasn’t exactly sure what the protocol was here.

“Hey, um… what’s the deal with lunch?”

He tossed her a look of confusion laced with amusement. “Where were you yesterday?” His voice had a nice lilt to it.

“Um… distracted.” Raelle chuckled at the memory of smoking her first joint with Scylla to skip orientation. He must have seen something on her face because he chuckled with her.

“Well, they give us an hour to eat wherever. There’s a cafeteria, but you’re more than welcome to leave campus. As long as you come back in time. Although,” he paused. “Since you did miss orientation, they made it _very clear_ that they don’t care about your attendance. ‘Your success is up to you,’” he parodied in a monotonous voice nearly indistinguishable from that of the head instructor Raelle had so hastily fled the day prior.

“Thanks for the heads up,” she smiled. “I’m Raelle, by the way.”

“Byron.”

Byron walked Raelle to the cafeteria as they continued to chat. Raelle hadn’t brought lunch with her, and she knew for a fact that Scylla hadn’t either. She figured she’d meet up with her. Maybe they could get lunch at the grocery store together. Raelle’s brow furrowed at the thought; maybe Scylla had wanted their encounter to be a singular instance. She hoped not.

Raelle headed towards Scylla as soon as she spotted her from across the cafeteria.

“Hey there, sunshine.”

“Hey,” Scylla returned groggily.

“I know I told you I’d get you out early… Let me buy you lunch to make up for it.”

Scylla smiled. “That would be wonderful. I’m starved.”

Raelle and Scylla sat on one of the park benches by the river they’d found the day prior, eating their respective meals from the grocery store deli. Raelle had chicken strips and mac and cheese, whereas Scylla had chosen a bean salad and chips.

“I can’t believe you chose _that_ , of all things,” Raelle chuckled, gesturing towards Scylla’s bean salad.

“It’s quite good,” she defended. She brought it closer towards her, as though to shield it from Raelle’s criticisms. “Delicious _and_ nutritious. And capable of being made in a way that is not deeply exploitative.”

Raelle just shook her head. “I don’t know. I ate a lot of canned beans growing up. I hardly ever got stuff like this. _Especially_ when Mama was making the food decisions.” She looked a little somber after she said it.

“Well, canned beans are hardly a worthy stand-in for the wide and wonderful world that is the Order _Fabales._ I urge you not to allow your past to determine your future perceptions of all that beans can be,” Scylla continued.

“Okay, so you’re really stoked into beans.”

“You could say that. I helped grow them for a while.” Scylla remembered her childhood garden with a pang. And then her college garden with a something she wasn’t sure how to interpret.

“I don’t know how I’ll keep up with you if you’ve already bean there, done that.”

Scylla couldn’t help but giggle at the pun. “It’s all legume and games until you hit the bathroom.”

This time it was Raelle’s turn to giggle. “Wouldn’t know. I’ve never bean.”

They both giggled at that.

The car ride back to the shared apartment after the first day of classes was tense. Not surprisingly, the tension seemed to be radiating off a certain Bellweather in the driver’s seat.

“Sooo, how was school?” Scylla asked from the backseat in a sing-song voice.

“Good.” Abigail’s response was curt and entirely unconvincing. Tally just sighed.

Scylla smiled and looked out the window, checking to see if Raelle had returned her last text. She had.

“Are you still texting that girl?” Abigail accused.

“Yes.” Scylla didn’t even look up from her phone.

“We’re supposed to be feeling out the people here to find our mark. Not just _sleeping_ with whoever we happen to have a crush on,” she scoffed.

Scylla put her phone down to give Abigail her full attention. “That’s rich, coming from you. In fact, just today, I watched you actively make an enemy out of someone that fits _exactly_ the profile of our mark. So don’t you _dare_ tell me how to do _my_ job. Remember, you’re only here because your mom is crazy and, for whatever reason, doesn’t trust me with this bullshit assignment.”

That must have hit a nerve, because Abigail abruptly hit the brakes and pulled the car to the side of the road. In a second, she’d undone her seatbelt and rounded on Scylla to give her a full dressing-down.

“ _As_ FUCKING _IF,_ you goddamned irresponsible shitbird! My mother has a GODDAMNED GOOD reason not to trust you, of all people! My _friends_ are _dead_ because of YOU!” Abigail accentuated her last words with rough jabs to Scylla’s chest.

Guilt stirred in Scylla. It was something dark and powerful that she did her best to keep at bay. At Abigail’s words, though, that foul, angry beast reared its head and began to do what it did best – wreak internal havoc. Scylla’s throat and chest seared with pain wherever it reached.

“Those were my friends, too! And I… I never meant to hurt them.” Scylla crashed back in the seat like a deflated balloon, clutching at herself to try to keep herself from disintegrating as the beast raged inside. At least she didn’t let her voice crack in front of the beast in the front seat.

Tally just watched it all with wide eyes from the passenger seat. A few moments after Abigail pulled back onto the road, she turned the radio on. Everyone seemed glad for the distraction.

As soon as the car pulled into the apartment parking lot and before it had even pulled to a halt, Scylla got out and slammed her door behind her.

“Yeah, run away, shitbird. Just like always!” Abigail called after her. Scylla raised a middle finger without looking back.

“Hey, come on, Scylla. We can talk this out!” Tally pleaded.

“Yeah, thanks but no thanks.” Scylla still didn’t turn around to reply. She wasn’t exactly sure where she was going – she just knew that she couldn’t spend another minute in Abigail’s company. She’d always tried to do so out of her own deep-seated problems with competition, but now, since the incident, she was always able to hit a nerve. Try as she might to forget what happened at that oil refinery and at her field unit’s outpost later, Scylla simply could not shake the reality of what had happened. Of what her actions had done to the people she cared about. At least she could take comfort in the fact that Alder and Anacostia were still out there, somewhere.

Scylla shook her head, hoping that she could physically dislodge the thoughts that stubbornly dominated her psyche. It didn’t work. She quickened her pace, focusing on strong, intentional paces. That didn’t help with her thoughts much, but within a few minutes it got her far enough away from the apartment complex to feel comfortable letting loose a shout of grief, guilt, and rage all in one. A car stopped to check on her, which was uncomfortable, but they quickly continued when she waved them off.

Alright, so disengaging from it clearly wasn’t working. Maybe it was time for the nuclear option – trying to actually process it. She’d been unintentionally dealing with it in pieces, but that usually ended with her going in circles and going nowhere. Maybe it would be better to try to start from the beginning, to put everything together into a single string that made sense.

Where to begin? Her parents’ death seemed like a decent starting point.

Scylla winced. She’d hardly begun, and it hurt already.

She recalled with vivid clarity the day they died. It was the May of her senior year, only a month or two after she’d come to love her parents again. For more than a year, she’d hated them for uprooting her life in Massachusetts to move to Louisiana for their class-action lawsuit in the heart of Cancer Alley. They’d been successful lawyers before, working for a law firm that primarily defended oil companies from exactly the kind of lawsuits they’d gone to Louisiana to do. It made them wealthy and gave Scylla a high-class upbringing. She’d never thought much of it until they sat her down to tell her that they could not continue, that they needed to run in the opposite direction. Run straight to St. Gabriel, Louisiana, as it turned out.

Though she’d hated it for a long time, that changed when she finally made local friends in her senior year. When she finally dropped the pretenses of her youth and finally began to listen with an open mind. When she did, she found community and a deep appreciation for her parents’ motivations. Before, she’d been proud of them for their material success; but now, for the first time, she was proud of them for who they were. They hadn’t just changed careers, either – they’d also changed their approach to family. They’d begun talking with her like an equal, spending time together, listening to each other. Even though they weren’t living like the wealthy anymore, it was the happiest they’d ever been. Still, it was bittersweet – they were also more familiar with the people of St. Gabriel’s struggles than they had ever been.

The day they died – Mayday, as she had come to refer to it – was one of those bittersweet days. She’d spent the day at Maia and Eli’s house, playing video games and keeping them company as they periodically tended to their mother as she fought stage 4 lung cancer in the bedroom next door. She’d forgotten to charge her phone the night before and stayed over past curfew. When she finally went home, the house was dark and empty. When her phone charged, she listened to the Sheriff tell her over a curt voicemail that her parents were killed in a hit and run accident. They had no idea who was responsible. He also told her to contact relatives to arrange for the funeral affairs. But then, Scylla didn’t have any living relatives. Instead, she’d called her friends. And Porter. _Porter._ The next gut-wrenching subject.

Eli and Maia helped her set up a service for her parents. Porter, on the other hand, tried hard to convince her to bring the funeral to Massachusetts. She’d tried to explain to him how deeply her parents would have protested to that. He acquiesced, but still couldn’t really listen to what she was saying. He’d flown down for the ceremony, along with several of her parents’ bosses. Rather than calming, their presence had been aggravating. Porter’s especially – listening to him talk about the place sounded exactly like what Scylla had sounded like for the first year and a half of her time in St. Gabriel.

Scylla had come to hate that version of herself – the precocious and assured high society girl eager to excel, regardless of her work’s consequences. She’d seen the dark reflections of that approach in both her parents and St. Gabriel. Being with Porter, mourning the death of both her parents and their dream, made her hate herself. The breaking point came when local activists investigating her parent’s deaths found evidence that the refinery her parents’ lawsuit targeted may have arranged their murder. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to give them a decent chance of winning in court. Porter denounced it as an ill-founded conspiracy and accused Scylla of hysterics for wanting to act on it. He insisted that a company in America would never resort to violence in a situation like this; that it was just blind bad luck. That it had probably been one of the local drunks that killed her parents. There was a time when Scylla, too, would have believed that.

The day after her parents’ funeral, Scylla couldn’t take it anymore and broke up with him. He fought hard against it, which just made it worse. He even tried to propose to her the next day.

The next months passed in a blur. Somehow, she finished her last year of high school somehow. She wouldn’t have been able to do it without Maia and Eli. In the summer, she returned briefly to Massachusetts to reconnect with her old friends. Instead, it ignited the same disillusionment that Porter brought. Adrift, she landed at the University of Massachusetts Amherst for the fall. It was there, working in the community garden, that she’d been recruited into the Spree. 

Scylla stopped to take a breath and notice her surroundings. She didn’t recognize it at all, but she’d been walking for a long while. North, judging by the sun. Towards Raelle’s apartment, if she remembered correctly. Though she could keep this pace for miles, she felt exhausted. She could keep walking, but she was done walking down memory lane. In any case, she certainly didn’t want to walk back into the lion’s den where Abigail was surely lying in wait, ready to pounce again. That really only left her one option, she reasoned.

“Hey, Raelle. It’s Scylla. What are you up to?”


	6. do you take all the girls here?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raelle picks Scylla up after her spat with Abigail and the two get to talking. Scylla tells Tally her side of the story about her incident with Abigail. Abigail questions her mother's intentions in sending the trio out on this recruitment mission.

“Hey, Raelle. It’s Scylla. What are you up to?”

Raelle smiled into the phone. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you had a crush on me.”

Scylla chuckled on the other end. “And what makes you think you know better?”

Raelle, unsure how to respond, answered Scylla’s original question instead. “I’m just exploring Salem. How about you?”

“The same. But it seems that I may have wandered a bit too far.”

“Oh. Want me to pick you up?”

“That would be lovely. Thank you.”

“Alright. Just send me your location. I’ll be there in twenty-ish.”

Raelle smiled. She actually wasn’t in town anymore – in search of good lookout points, she’d headed out to the wooded outskirts. The forested hills, though lusher than the ones she was used to, reminded her of home. Coincidentally, they also contained great make-out spots that could end up coming in handy tonight.

When Raelle pulled up to Scylla’s location, she found her swaying idly on the swings of a small park. Raelle parked her car and walked out to meet her.

“You don’t look very lost to me,” she said to announce her arrival, taking a seat on the swing next to Scylla. Scylla looked over at Raelle with a smile that Raelle was coming to recognize; one that didn’t quite reach her eyes, betraying something darker going on behind them. What those emotions were, Raelle couldn’t quite tell. Still, the look reminded her of the expression she’d sometimes seen on her father’s face. He’d worn it often after her mother died.

“I never said I was lost.”

“My bad. Misplaced.”

Scylla chuckled. “This roommate situation may be more challenging than I initially thought.”

“Did something happen?”

Scylla sighed and looked down at her shoes, tracing patterns in the dirt. “A few months ago, yes. We were working a job that went bad. Abigail still blames me for it. She uses any excuse to bring it up these days. It’s ugly every time.”

Raelle thought for a moment. “What do you guys do, anyways? What kinds of jobs?”

Scylla paused, keeping her eyes down. “The organization we work for does a lot. We have different jobs within it, though I recently got transferred into Abigail’s branch. The other girl, Tally, is Abigail’s trainee.”

“Abigail’s the one that blew up at you?” Scylla finally looked up to nod in response.

“What happened with the job that went wrong?” Scylla’s eyes dropped again.

A long time passed before she finally answered. “Abigail actually wasn’t even supposed to be working with me until the last minute. We were… installing some specialized software for an industrial client. Somehow, though, the software had a backdoor that let sensitive information get leaked. They… axed my department after that. It was a huge mess, and Abigail and everyone else blames me for it.”

Raelle paused, thinking. Something about what Scylla was saying was off, as though she didn’t quite believe the words coming out of her own mouth. She answered all Raelle’s questions about her work like this. It was… mysterious. Still, Raelle had to remind herself that she’d known this girl for only a few days – she could hardly expect to hear a full account of Scylla’s whole life so soon into the relationship. She could give Scylla space, bide her time. A little mystery wouldn’t do any harm.

“Interesting that they’d send the company shame to an expensive training bootcamp,” Raelle mused.

“Actually, yes. I think the same thing. If I’m being honest,” Scylla leaned towards Raelle, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial murmur. “I think there’s something strange going on. I know my work – I don’t make mistakes. I think it was someone else’ doing, that it was intentional. And I’m starting to think that someone wanted me out here, far away from the action, to keep me from asking too many questions.”

Raelle raised her eyebrows. “A conspiracy.”

“Exactly.” Scylla looked into Raelle’s eyes with an unexpected intensity, like there was a question that she wanted to ask. Raelle waited for her to ask it, but she must have changed her mind because she broke to connection to go back to looking at her feet.

“Well…” Raelle began, unsure of exactly what she was going to say. Depending on just what the organization was and how much they invested in their security, there may be a chance that she could find out the truth with some of her specialized technical wizardry. Then again, every time she hacked was a risk. Was she willing to take that risk for Scylla, a girl she had only just met? _Yes_. Raelle found herself taken by surprise by how quickly she’d been able to answer that hypothetical question. She wanted to act on that certainty, but at the same time, that feeling of certainty scared her. “…I…” she continued, struggling internally. Scylla didn’t know the extent of Raelle’s illegal activities yet. If she offered to do this for her, though, that would change. Scylla looked up at Raelle with expectant eyes, waiting for her to come out with whatever she was struggling to say.

“…think that sucks,” Raelle finished lamely. Maybe she would still help Scylla, but she wasn’t about to offer it just yet. She’d need to get to know her a little more. She could have mystery of her own, after all. Disappointment flashed across Scylla’s features, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. Scylla looked back down and shrugged dejectedly.

“I’m working through it. Anyways, I’m here for now. I may as well enjoy it.”

“In the spirit of enjoying it, I’m guessing you don’t want a ride back to your apartment?”

Scylla laughed. “You’re a good guesser.”

Raelle stood up from the swing, offering Scylla a hand.

“Such a gentlewoman,” Scylla joked. All the angst of a few moments earlier seemed to have evaporated – Scylla was back to the charming and effortlessly flirtatious demeanor Raelle was familiar with.

“I am from the south, after all,” Raelle drawled, leaning down to gently kiss Scylla’s hand with a smile. “Let me take you out for a drive.”

Scylla hated lying to Raelle.

Even though she’d come as close to the truth about her situation with the Spree as she could, it still felt wrong to be dishonest with Raelle. There was something about her that made Scylla want to be genuine – it was one of the first things she’d noticed from their interactions. She hadn’t felt anything like it since she’d joined the Spree two years ago. Lying to Raelle felt like spitting in the face of good fortune. Even worse, the look Raelle had worn as Scylla lied would suggest that she could tell something was off. Still, Scylla couldn’t risk telling Raelle everything yet. Not if she wanted to have any hope of protecting her from the Spree.

As soon as the conversation veered away from the Spree, though, Scylla’s mood improved markedly. The pair drove around town for a while, talking casually. As the light started to fade, Raelle drove them to the outskirts of town and parked on a hill. The spot had a sweeping view of the valley and enough elevation to be able to watch the sun set over the western horizon.

“Do you take all the girls here?” Scylla joked.

Raelle laughed and shook her head. “You keep talking like I get a lot of girls.”

“Well, don’t you?”

Raelle just gave Scylla a sidelong look.

“No, I’m serious. How could you not, with that southern drawl? And your rugged good looks?”

Raelle shrugged. “Well, I don’t exactly chase them. And remember, I’m from a small town in the south. It’s not like it was teeming with girls like you.”

“Girls like me?”

“Yeah, you know. Girls that like girls.”

Scylla paused, looking away from Raelle to face the colors in the sky.

Raelle chuckled uncomfortably. “Or at least, I figured you liked girls. Otherwise, I don’t know how to explain last night.”

“Well, Raelle, the truth is last night was the first of its kind for me.”

“You mean I’m the first girl you’ve slept with?”

Scylla nodded shyly. Raelle laughed softly.

“Well, I hope I did it justice.

This time, it was Scylla who laughed. “I think that would be an emphatic yes.”

Raelle looked at her with a glimmer in her eye. When she leaned towards Scylla, she let herself relax into the kiss. She brought a hand up to Raelle’s neck, pulling her closer. It was difficult to believe that she had met this girl only yesterday. When they pulled away from the kiss, both wore smiles on their faces. 

“For the record, you also emphatically did it justice,” Raelle smiled. Her dimples were out in full force. Scylla pulled her in for another kiss just for that.

“Thank you. With any luck, there will be plenty of justice to go around,” Scylla retorted. They both giggled.

“So, you’re not a player but you’re not a virgin,” Scylla continued. Raelle nodded in affirmation. “Where does that leave you, in terms of your sexual history?”

Raelle giggled. “Jeez, you make it sound so clinical. I, uh, had a few girlfriends in the city in high school and after.”

“Anything serious?”

“What, jealous?” Raelle laughed.

Scylla leaned in for another kiss. This time, though, instead of being soft and sweet, she tangled her hand in Raelle’s hair and gripped her inner thigh. Raelle, caught by surprise, responded with a soft whimper.

Scylla pulled away from Raelle’s lips just enough to murmur, “No.” As soon as she had, she returned to bite Raelle’s lower lip and kiss her deeply. When the two pulled apart again several minutes later, Raelle’s hair was mussed and her eyes glazed.

Raelle swallowed. “Good. You definitely don’t need to be.”

They stayed at the overlook until dark, alternating between talking and making out. Scylla wanted to prolong the moment as long as she could, but she knew she’d have to get back to her apartment eventually. She needed a shower, a change of clothes, and food. When she finally communicated that to Raelle, she looked disappointed.

“I actually have all of those things at my apartment,” she suggested.

Scylla laughed. “Yes. But I don’t want to impose. I already interrupted you tonight.”

“Oh, please. You made this night a lot better,” Raelle insisted.

“Even so. There will be plenty of nights that I make a lot better. And I really do need a change of clothes, even if I do have to face the music.”

“You promise?” Raelle asked, taking one of Scylla’s hands in hers.

“I promise.” Scylla kissed Raelle’s hands. “Now take me home, cowgirl.”

“Cow _hand_ ,” Raelle grumbled, dropping Scylla’s hand and turning towards the steering wheel.

Scylla laughed. “Are you sure that’s how you’d rather refer to yourself?”

“Yeah. The cowgirls were weird,” Raelle defended.

“I don’t know. I think you would be pretty hot as a cowgirl.”

“I don’t know. I’m pretty sure last night, _I_ was the wild ride. So wouldn’t that make you the cowgirl?” Raelle teased.

Scylla jokingly smacked Raelle’s arm. “Wouldn’t that make _you_ the _cow_? Is that why it’s cowhand?”

Raelle bust out laughing. “Okay, no. We’ve gone too far now. Abort mission,” she got out in between laughs. Scylla joined her, laughing at the mental images the line of conversation conjured.

Raelle dropped Scylla off at her apartment with one final make-out session that left her feeling a little unsteady as she ascended the stairs. She opened the door as quietly as she could, hoping that Abigail would be asleep already. The apartment was dark when she entered – a promising sign.

“Scylla?” Tally’s voice came from the dark. It was a new tone Scylla had never heard from Tally – it had an edge to it she wouldn’t have thought the bubbly trainee would be able to muster.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Scylla responded in a whisper. Scylla heard Tally sigh in relief. In a second, the light clicked on and Scylla saw Tally standing in her pajamas.

Scylla blinked and looked around. There was a bottle of vodka and two shot glasses out on the counter. “Where’s Abigail?” she asked.

Tally rolled her eyes, glancing at the bottle. “I don’t think she’ll give you much trouble tonight.”

“Do we have any food?”

Tally smiled. “Yeah. I made a veggie pasta bake.”

Scylla lifted an eyebrow. “On the Spree budget?”

Tally frowned. “Well, no. Abigail is not sticking with that. She didn’t explain how she’s going to deal with it, just that she would.”

Scylla snorted. “Figures. She’s been a spoiled brat since day one.” Spotting the bake in the refrigerator, Scylla set about preparing a bowl for herself. Her stomach grumbled at the prospect of the pasta – to Tally’s credit, it did smell great.

“Yeah… I’ve been meaning to ask you about that.” Scylla took her first bite and looked at Tally expectantly.

“Well…” Tally shifted uncomfortably. “It’s just, I grew up hearing about the Spree. All of my aunts did some pretty radical stuff with them back in the day. But the way they described it… I don’t know. They made it sound like there was a sense of moral clarity guiding everything. Of trust. Integrity. I’ve only really been working with Abigail, but that is not at all the sense I’ve been getting again.”

Scylla sighed, setting down her pasta. She peered past Tally at the closed door to the bedroom behind which Abigail supposedly slept. She had a lot to say about this subject, and all of it had to do with Abigail and her mother. If she started talking about it, there was no guarantee she wouldn’t get heated and betray her position to Abigail. She looked back to Tally, who had glanced back towards where Scylla had looked. “What do you say we go for a little walk?”

The two ended up on the steps outside the apartment as Scylla dug into her pasta.

“I’ve been with the Spree for two years – since I was 19. I got to work with the Spree, albeit very briefly, before Petra Bellweather got involved. Back then, the Spree had three Commanders. One of them, Commander Alder, has stuck around. She’s MIA right now, though. More on that later. There were two others, but to be honest I can’t remember their names. They were both really old and died really soon after I joined. But anyways, the Spree was much smaller back then. It was also explicitly non-violent. The ultimate goal, the driving force behind everything we did, was to try to slow down and generate opposition to exploitative, human rights-jeopardizing practices. A lot of that meant building connections with activists around the world, radicalizing people, blowing up unoccupied critical pieces of oil infrastructure, stuff like that.”

Tally nodded in agreement. “Yeah, that’s like what my aunts described.”

“Well, things started changing pretty soon after Bellweather showed up. For one, she brought with her a dozen or so computer specialists from the NSA. Plus a bunch of really expensive equipment. If you’re in their unit, you’re probably familiar with that. Did you know there wasn’t even a cyber unit before Bellweather?” Tally shook her head. Scylla continued.

“Once she’d gotten her cyber unit set up, she drafted a friend of hers to lead up recruitment. Commander Eloise Hart.”

Tally smiled. “Yeah, I know her. She’s… charismatic.”

Scylla smiled ruefully. “Yeah. She got me too. Since then, the Spree have grown a lot. Bellweather brought in a ton of connections, expertise, and ideas that have really changed how the organization operates. But…” Scylla paused. “I don’t trust her. At all. Especially not after what happened at that oil distribution center.”

Tally nodded. “That was the other thing I wanted to ask you about. Abigail told me about it, but she said some things about you that I have a hard time believing.”

Scylla groaned. “Yeah. That whole thing was a mess. Back then, I was working with the field unit. Under Commander Alder. We were going to hit a critical oil distribution center. Doing stuff like that makes it harder for Big Oil to make ends meet on their sketchy investments and makes its economic outlook less certain. Since that’s what it’s used for so long to ingratiate itself into American politics and culture, we hope that we can make it look like a worse option. You would think just knowing about climate change and pollution would be enough for that, but apparently not.

“Anyways, I was supposed to go in with one other person to lay charges to blow it up.”

“Abigail said it was someone named Porter, someone that you’d maybe been with?” Tally interrupted.

Scylla winced. “Well… Yes. We were together for a long time when I was younger. But he’d only just joined the Spree. That was going to be his first major mission. But right before we were supposed to go, he disappeared. Commander _Bellweather_ insisted that Abigail go with me instead.”

“Do you think he got cold feet?”

“I don’t know,” Scylla sighed. “Believe me, I’m glad he’s gone. But he had been telling me that he was in love with me, that he wanted to be with me forever. Maybe he got the message that I wasn’t interested and decided to dip out before he committed and major crimes. I truly don’t know.”

“Weird. So Abigail ended up going with you?”

“Yeah. And things were going fine. We laid all the charges and had everything set up. But just as we were about to leave, a whole crew of people showed up. Probably a dozen or so people. One of them was talking about his kids, I… I couldn’t let them all die.”

Tally listened with rapt attention. “Abigail didn’t say there were people there.”

“Well, she wouldn’t, would she? She tells it like I was a coward. The cowardly thing to do, the easy thing to do, would have been to run away and detonate the charges like we planned – their families be damned. But instead of that, I told Abigail that we couldn’t detonate with the workers there. She refused. I had the detonator, so I just started to walk away. She attacked me. We must have made quite a racket, because one of them – a security guard – came over. He pulled Abigail off of me, who by that point was screaming at me to give her the detonator. Abigail managed to get away from him, though, and started to run away. But by then, the security guard wanted me in custody. He had me in an arm lock and managed to get the detonator.

“Abigail came back, though. She knocked him down and got me out of there. If it wasn’t for her, I would have been arrested. At the same time, though, if it wasn’t for her, we could have avoided the whole thing and detonated the charges later when people were gone again.”

“Still, neither of you were arrested. That’s kind of a win.”

Scylla laughed humorlessly. “No. Because somehow, the feds found those charges and traced them back to my field unit. They found our outpost and came in with guns blazing. My unit fought back, though. They even rigged the place to explode before the cops could get in.”

Scylla looked down, biting back tears. “My whole unit died.” Tally reached out to put her hands over Scylla’s.

“The only reason I survived was because I was lying low with Abigail. We didn’t find out about the field unit until several days later.”

“So you were the only survivor?”

“Maybe. It looks like Commander Alder and Quartermaine might have been out at the time because their bodies were never identified. But we also haven’t heard anything from them, so that’s not exactly a good sign.”

“Have you tried to contact them?”

“Yeah, but no response. I just don’t know where we went wrong. There shouldn’t have been anything incriminating about those charges. Or, even if there was, it should have led back to me or Porter. Not to the field unit headquarters.”

“Are you okay?” Tally asked gently.

Scylla laughed. “As I’ll ever be. I don’t know. But I know that working in Bellweather’s cyber unit has been less than rosy. And the more time goes on, the less I trust her. Or her spoiled daughter.”

Tally shook her head. “I don’t know what to think of the Spree anymore.”

“Me neither.” The two exchanged a look before sitting in silence.

“And the more time goes on, the less I trust her. Or her spoiled daughter.”

Abigail bit back rage from her position at the apartment window. She’d heard Scylla return, and she’d heard her suggestion to get out of her earshot. She hadn’t been eavesdropping before, but at that suggestion it was hardly as if she could resist. Hearing Tally talk about her like that stung. _Her own pupil_.

Deciding she’d heard enough, she stalked back to her room. The only thing worse than hearing them talk about her like that would be for them to catch her listening in.

She flopped down on the bed. Her head still felt a little fuzzy from the vodka she’d downed earlier in the night, but it had mostly worn off. Like her mother, Abigail had an impressive alcohol tolerance. Unlike her mother, though, she liked to get drunk.

At the sound of the door to the apartment opening and Scylla and Tally coming back inside, Abigail wished she would have had the presence of mind to bring the bottle back into her room. She didn’t much want to be alone with her thoughts tonight – not with the day she’d had.

 _“That’s rich, coming from you. In fact, just today, I watched you actively make an enemy out of someone that fits exactly the profile of our mark. So don’t you dare tell me how to do my job._ _Remember, you’re only here because your mom is crazy and, for whatever reason, doesn’t trust me with this bullshit assignment.”_

Scylla’s comment from earlier ran through her mind. It had set her _off_ – probably because it had hit a nerve. Truth be told, Abigail didn’t understand why she was out on this assignment either. She worked with the Cyber unit, not recruitment. And it wasn’t like this bootcamp was likely to give her any new skills actually relevant to the Spree. Her mother had played up their mark like she was absolutely essential to the Spree, but she’d never heard of any other recruitments getting so much attention. Besides, it wasn’t like this hacker had hacked into the Pentagon or anything – she’d just uncovered dirt on easy, unprotected figureheads. _Hardly essential_. Not only that, but her mother had told them to expect to be out here looking for this mark for the _full duration_ of this bullshit coding bootcamp. How much would that cost? And, if this mark really _was_ as essential as her mother had claimed, why would she send Scylla, Abigail, and a trainee to find her instead of a pro from the recruitment unit?

Abigail could hear her mother’s voice now – _just trust me, darling. I know what I’m doing. It will all make sense in the end._

Abigail had always trusted her mother. Growing up, she relished hearing her describe the fights and adventures of her career every night for story time. Her mother was a hero; she caught terrorists and prevented plots against the President. She told stories of war, too – of times when her work in intelligence brought down warlords and freed hostages. Villains never had any chance against her mother. If you’d asked a young Abigail what she wanted to be when she grew up, the answer would have always been the same: ‘I want to be like mommy!’

So, when her mother had announced that she could no longer justify working with the government, that she had to use her talents elsewhere with the Spree, of course Abigail followed her. She’d just graduated from prep school and couldn’t wait to get away from the oppressive high-society her grandparents had insisted on surrounding her with. Instead, she would get to join her mother as a hero, working to protect the lower classes from the exploitation of the wealthy. Both she and her mother had sacrificed everything for the Spree. Who the hell was Scylla to not trust them after all of that?

Abigail flipped over with a heavy huff, trying to silence her mind. The image of the dark-haired girl with the grungy outfit sprung into her mind to take the place of the thoughts she wanted to silence. Scylla had at least been right about that – Abigail hadn’t done much to build bridges with that girl. _Whatever._ She’d work on it tomorrow.

Though it took a while, Abigail finally drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will Scylla come clean about her role in the Spree? Will Raelle help Scylla hack the Spree? Will Abigail really question her mother's authority?? Twists n turns coming soon :)


	7. f*** Cuervo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang gets invited to a party and Abigail + Libba showdown with a drinking game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's a long one! oop

Scylla and Tally bond some. Abigail gets icy and is jealous of their budding friendship.

Abigail tries to get Libba for a group project. Some clashes. Secured with a bet with $300 stakes.

Raelle takes Scylla to her apartment for sexytime during lunch.

Tally gets invited to a party with Glory, Gerit, and a bunch of others on the weekend. Abigail feels a little jealous but gets invited.

Libba and Abigail decide on a drinking game at Gerit’s party.

Abigail calls her mom to try to get out of the whole thing.

Gerit’s party happens.

Abigail pulls Tally aside to ask her why she’s having such a hard time with friends. Tally answers honestly that Abigail comes off very angry, confrontational, and constantly trying to one-up others.

Scylla tells Raelle that she wants to be with her.

Setup for a month or so to pass for Porter and Alder’s squad to start introducing major drama.

“Good morning! Made you coffee.”

Abigail just grunted in response to Tally’s ebullient onslaught. Still, she took the coffee gratefully.

“Like I was saying, they can get really big. And they form these tubes. Some of the big ones are big enough to completely swim through!”

“What?” Abigail grunted confusedly.

“Pyrosomes,” Scylla answered with a wag of her eyebrows. She returned to nursing her coffee after she piped up, leaving Tally to continue bustling around and talking excitedly.

“Pyrosomes are these really interesting deep ocean things. They are actually individual tunicates that come together and form colonies. _But_ what’s _interesting_ is that the individual organisms collaborate in a colony format so well that they grow vertebrae and are considered vertebrates. Isn’t that cool?”

“They also glow,” Scylla chimed in.

“Heck yeah, they do! Nature is _truly_ amazing,” Tally gushed. Toast popped up from the toaster behind her with a ding, calling her away from her pyrosome discussion. She put each piece of toast on the plastic plates the trio had brought with them and scraped the contents of the frying pan evenly onto each. She turned around to place the plates in front of Scylla and Abigail with a flourish.

Scylla took a bite and hummed appreciatively. “Thank you for breakfast.”

“You’re welcome, Scylla,” Tally beamed. Abigail just rolled her eyes. Admittedly, the scramble Tally had made was very good. Still, that much energy this early in the morning had to be illegal.

“So, speaking of tunicates, have you ever seen a clubbed tunicate?

Abigail quietly ate her breakfast and drank her coffee as Scylla and Tally continued their animated exchange about obscure marine life. She was a little surprised; she wouldn’t have pegged either of the young Spree recruits as biology enthusiasts. She listened to what they said but said nothing; she was completely out of her depth. Besides, she was still mad at them for what she’d heard them saying last night.

Abigail’s mood, sour from the moment she woke up, only worsened with time. Tally and Scylla continued to laugh and talk, as carefree as could be. She couldn’t quite identify why, but their demeanor bothered her. When the three piled into the car to drive to Fort Salem, Tally seemed to finally pick up on Abigail’s mood.

“Abigail, are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I’m just taking this mission seriously. It is our job, after all,” she snapped back.

Abigail caught Tally’s eyes flick to the rearview mirror, presumably to share a look with Scylla. The thought just made her angrier. She decidedly did not enjoy how Tally and Scylla were teaming up against her. _Whatever_ , she thought. She didn’t need them, anyways.

At least the car ride to school was finally quiet.

As Abigail walked into class, she automatically headed towards the front. Remembering her earlier promise to herself, though, she stopped. If she was going to talk to that obnoxiously arrogant punk from yesterday, she was going to have to sit near her in the back. Sitting in the back of class felt totally foreign to her. Still, she wasn’t here _for_ the classes after all. It had been so natural for her to fall back into the academic habits she was familiar with. Her mother had drilled them into her; they weren’t exactly easy to let fall by the wayside. She took a seat in the back of the class, trying her best to feel confident anyways. She may be stooping academically, but she refused to let it affect her dignity as a Bellweather.

Her eyes glanced up as Scylla entered the room. She’d taken off earlier – probably to go make heart-eyes at that girl she’d been spending all her time with. Scylla quirked an eyebrow when she saw Abigail in the back but chose a seat farther towards the front. Abigail was quietly grateful she wouldn’t have to approach this girl with Scylla snickering next to her at every misstep.

People continued to file into the room as the time before class dwindled. Still no sight of Abigail’s target, though. She knit her brows in frustration. But then, just as the instructor cleared his throat to begin to speak, she stepped in. She was dressed similarly as the day before, with baggy black jeans over combat boots, an oversized dark jacket, and unkempt dark curls. _She’s pretty, in a grungy sort of way._ _Maybe if she took more pride in her appearance_ , Abigail thought smugly. The girl, apparently feeling Abigail’s scrutinizing eyes, made eye contact. Abigail smiled at her, but she just squinted in response. Abigail groaned internally. _Great start._

Class progressed, marginally more bearable now that they’d moved beyond the absolute basics. Abigail tried several times to catch the girl’s eye, but to no avail.

“Like I said on the first day, a long-term group project that will be a major component of this course. Your ability to apply the material, especially in collaboration with someone else, will be a major product that you will be able to use to market yourself upon your completion of this training program. In other words, this is what may get you hired. I suggest you take it seriously. In my experience, the best projects come out of groups of two or three people.”

Abigail’s ears perked up. This could be the perfect opportunity to get close to her mark.

“Think about who you might like to work with, but don’t think about it too much. Final group pairings will be solidified Monday.”

_Shit._ How could she get this girl to partner up with her by tomorrow? It didn’t look like she had a great shot at the moment.

When class was over, Abigail turned toward the girl. “We should be partners for that group project.”

The girl squinted at her again and folded her arms over her chest. “Oh yeah? And what makes you think I’d want to do that?”

“Because you’re smart. And, as much as you might try to act like you don’t, you work hard. Me too, on both counts.”

“Bold of you to assume you’re smart.”

Abigail sneered. “Bold of you to assume I’m not.”

“Smart or not, you’ve got an attitude problem. Pass.” The girl turned away from Abigail to get her bag and leave.

“Alright then.” Flustered, Abigail watched her start to walk away. She had to salvage this, fast. “I propose we settle this with a challenge.”

That stopped the girl in her tracks. When she turned around, there was a mischievous glint in her eye. “And why would I agree to a challenge?”

Abigail paused. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. “If I win, we work on the project together.”

“You’re still not giving me anything. What if I win?” The girl closed the distance between them, getting into Abigail’s space. She either didn’t notice or simply didn’t care how much Abigail towered over her.

Abigail grit her teeth. “You’ll get to lord it over me for the whole program.”

The girl started to smile, which Abigail took as encouragement. “Yeah, but I would have done that anyways. If you want me as your project partner, you’re going to have to try a little harder than that.” She backed up with a smirk, making to leave again.

“Wait. If you win, I’ll pay you a hundred dollars.”

She turned around at that, a curious expression on her face. “Five.”

Abigail snorted. “As if.” When she turned around again, though, Abigail rushed. “Okay, two.”

“Three.” She stepped towards Abigail again.

“Two,” Abigail countered, straightening her back.

“Three, or no deal.”

Abigail gave her a hard look, but she showed no sign backing down. Abigail rolled her eyes and huffed. “Okay. Fine. If you win, I will pay you three hundred dollars.”

The dark-haired girl smiled triumphantly and held her hand out for Abigail to shake. “Name’s Libba.” She gave Abigail’s hand one firm, energetic shake. “I’ll choose the competition, and we’ll get into it tonight.” Libba paused to pull out a pen and put her number onto Abigail’s arm in ink. “Thank you in advance for your generous contribution. I promise I’ll spend it well.” With that, she turned around and left Abigail in a flustered fury.

“Smooth. I know I’ve said you buy your friends before, but that really takes it to the next level.”

“Piss off, Ramshorn,” Abigail growled.

“Piss off, Ramshorn,” Abigail growled.

Scylla rolled her eyes but left Abigail to head off to lunch at that. She’d been surprised to see Abigail sitting in the back and trying to talk to Libba today. She had to give her some credit; after the blowup Scylla’s comment about Libba had caused, she really hadn’t expected her to respond to it. The blowup had still been totally uncalled for, but at least she was responding to legitimate criticism. Maybe there was more to Abigail than just her infuriating righteous bluster, after all.

Without warning, Scylla felt someone grab her hand and pull her to the side, pinning her against a wall. Her heart raced at the surprise but calmed at the sight of a familiar pair of icy blue eyes.

“Hey there, beautiful.”

Scylla smiled and leaned forward to give Raelle a sweet, languid kiss. 

“You surprised me.”

Raelle lifted a gentle hand to Scylla’s neck – checking her pulse. “I did, didn’t I?” she drawled. _That drawl._ Scylla’s pulse must have betrayed her reaction to that drawl because Raelle’s eyes widened with delighted surprise.

“What, you like the way I said that?” Raelle teased, emphasizing her drawl.

Scylla leaned forward to kiss Raelle again, but the blonde pulled back.

“Come on, cowboy. Give me a kiss,” Scylla cajoled.

“Cow _hand_ ,” Raelle corrected automatically. After a pause, though, a sly smile grew on her face. “But if you want me to play cowboy, it is high noon. Perfect time for a duel. It just so happens that I know a great place for that.”

“Well, then I reckon we’d best make ourselves scarce. Whaddya thank?” Scylla responded, imitating a southern accent.

Raelle laughed and stepped back, releasing Scylla from the wall. She held out a hand for Scylla in true southern gentlewoman fashion.

The two practically raced to Raelle’s apartment. When they were finally inside, Raelle wasted no time in picking Scylla up and slamming her against the wall. They met each other’s mouths with a desperate hunger, Scylla’s legs wrapping around Raelle’s waist as her hands found Scylla’s ass. Scylla tangled her hands in Raelle’s hair, pulling her towards her fiercely.

Before long, Raelle carried Scylla to the bed before tossing her down. Scylla closed her legs around her waist again as Raelle pulled herself over her.

“Let’s make the best of 20 minutes,” Scylla gasped.

“You got it,” Raelle grinned.

Tally struggled to pay attention in the class leading up to lunch. The boy, _Gerit_ , was there, sitting next to her and Glory. _Did he have to be that cute?_

When class finally ended, he turned towards Tally and Gerit with that huge smile of his. “Let’s eat lunch together?”

How could anyone say no to _that_?

As they walked towards the cafeteria, Tally spied Scylla running out hand-in-hand with that blonde girl, _Raelle._ She chuckled. Glory followed Tally’s gaze, chuckling herself.

“I wonder where they’re off to in such a hurry?” she asked.

Tally just shook her head. “If I know Scylla, up to no good.”

“You know one of them?” 

Tally nodded. “Yeah, Scylla’s my roommate. She’s been seeing that girl, Raelle, for a few days now.” The three of them took a seat at one of the available tables.

“They sure are moving fast,” Gerit chuckled.

“Yeah,” Tally agreed. “I don’t know how they do it.”

“I’ve heard they use fingers –” Glory began. She cut herself off at the sight of deep red blooming across both Tally’s and Gerit’s faces. She giggled and got into her lunch instead.

Tally cleared her throats. “Anyways, what brought you guys out here to this bootcamp?”

Glory sighed. “It isn’t really my choice. My parents are insistent that web design is the way of the future. And they wouldn’t help me pay for normal college, so, here I am.”

“Same story here,” Garit seconded. “What about you?”

“My work wanted Scylla, Abigail and I to get some new skills fast. So, here we are,” Tally lied. It didn’t feel right, but it also wasn’t that far from the truth. That made it easier.

“What kind of job pays for this? My parents can’t even cover all of it. I’m paying for more than half of it. Well, getting loans for it,” Gerit responded.

“Um, it’s complicated. But the director of the company is grooming us for leadership roles, I think.”

“Ugh. Let’s not talk about jobs anymore – I’d rather not think about that until I absolutely have to,” Glory pleaded. “Have you guys gotten to explore Salem yet?”

The trio talked animatedly for the rest of lunch, swapping jokes and stories. At one point, during a lull in conversation, Tally made a startling observation – this was the best she’d felt since joining the Spree. She didn’t quite know what to do with that realization, so she decided to push it aside for now.

Towards the end of lunch, Gerit cleared his voice.

“So, listen. I actually came out here with some friends and we’re renting a house in Salem. We’re planning on having a party Friday – tomorrow, I mean. Would you guys like to come?”

“A party?” Glory squealed. “Yes, of course! Oh my gosh. This will be my first party since I’ve moved out of my parents’ house. I am so in! Will you come, too, Tally?”

“Yeah! Of course! Is it okay if I invite other people? I know my roommates would like to come, at least. And probably a few other people.”

“Yeah! You guys can invite as many people as you want. I want to try to get to know as many people in this program outside of class as possible!”

“Perfect! This will be so fun.”

_This will be great for meeting new people and finding the mark_ , Tally reasoned. _Plus, it’ll be fun. A little fun never hurt anyone._

Abigail sat outside, clutching her half-eaten sandwich. The sun felt nice on her face, but it was blinding. Still, she preferred that to being able to look around and see everyone else eating in groups while she sat alone.

_Their lives mean nothing. I’m here for the greater good. They could never understand._ She repeated these thoughts every time she felt a stray glance land on her. What right had any of these people to judge her? Even if she explained it, none of them would comprehend what her sacrifice really meant. She wasn’t on their level; she didn’t need to lower herself to theirs just to fit in. She sat with her back straight, chin up.

Her mother had taught her long ago to keep composure, not matter what the situation. _The world will try to get you down. Don’t let it. You’re better than that. You’re better than them_ , she’d told her. _You’re not going to let this family down, correct?_

 _The first Bellweather to come to these shores was a slave. She deserves better. You are her wildest dream._ Abigail’s mother was fond of repetition. So those tidbits, those pieces of her mother, were burned into her. One time, when Abigail got a C in elementary school, her mother made her write “I am a Bellweather. My family fought its way here, all the way from slavery. I will honor my family’s name with hard work and dedication.” She wasn’t allowed dinner until she’d written those sentences 270 times – one for each year since her ancestor escaped slavery and began the Bellweather line with her own name. Abigail’s mother changed the punishment lines each time, but that one really stuck. That one, she couldn’t forget.

_Remember, you’re only here because your mom is crazy and, for whatever reason, doesn’t trust me with this bullshit assignment_. Scylla’s words this time. They, too, were hard to forget – mostly because they had a point.

What _was_ Abigail doing out here? Looking for one recruit to add to the Cyber unit? They had plenty of top-level computer scientists working for them. Did they really think a novice hacker would make that big of a difference? Or, even if she could, was it really worth sending three Spree agents out here for _months_ to find her with barely any lead to go on? Not to mention the fact that recruitment was _none_ of their specialties. They had a whole recruitment unit especially geared towards bringing people into the Spree. Abigail is from Cyber and Scylla’s from the field unit, so what the hell were _they_ doing on this recruitment mission? Even if this recruit really was so important, why send both Abigail _and_ Scylla? Scylla had been a coward, yes, but she hadn’t been disloyal to the Spree. And it was Scylla that found the mark and seemed to know the most about it. So why also send Abigail and her trainee?

Abigail took a bite of her sandwich to try to stop her head from spinning. Enough of this. She would call her mother tonight to get to the bottom of this. If she knew her mother, there was another set of reasons for all of this that would make everything make sense. Or, just maybe, she could convince her mother to let her come back to the Cyber unit. She missed that work – it was so much less uncomfortable than this business of making friends to spy on. _Tonight_ , she thought with anticipation.

Abigail gripped the steering wheel with intensity, eyes forward but barely on the road.

“Oh! Okay, great news guys. I got invited to a party today! You both are of course also invited to come. My friend Gerit is hosting it at his house he shares with a few other guys. This will be a great time to get to talk with a bunch of people from all over the program! I asked him and he also said we can invite anyone in the program, so invite people who you might want to get to know a little better.” Tally gushed from the passenger seat.

“Gerit, you say? What’s his deal?” Scylla piped up from the backseat.

Tally blushed. “Um, he’s nice. I don’t think he’s our mark though.”

Scylla chuckled knowingly. “Alright. When is this party?”

The two continued to talk about the party, with Tally naming off a laundry list of friends she’d made who would be there. Scylla nodded, seeming to recognize the names. Abigail felt a flush of insecurity – how the hell did they already know that many people? They had been here for just a few days. The only person Abigail knew was _Libba_ , and she’d had to put the prospect of $300 on the table just to get an audience with her. She groaned internally as she remembered she needed to call Libba tonight to set up some sort of childish competition. Libba said she’d choose the competition, but maybe Abigail could steer it towards something she was good at. Now that she knew the girl’s infuriating character, she might be able to use it to her advantage. Hopefully, though, she could call her mother. Once she brought up how little sense it made for her to be in Salem, maybe she could get out of there and back to the cyber headquarters. If she got lucky, maybe she could get out before having to get into a potentially embarrassing showdown with Libba. The thought perked her up a bit.

“Will you come to the party, Abigail?” Tally asked, interrupting her thoughts.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

“But first, she’s got a date with _Libba_ tonight.” Scylla crooned, leaning forward.

“A _date_ with _Libba?_ ” Tally gasped.

“ _Not_ a date,” Abigail growled. “A friendly competition.”

“Alright, a bet. If Abigail wins, she and Libba work together on the group project. But if she _loses_ , Abigail has to pay Libba $300,” Scylla laughed.

Abigail grit her teeth, trying not to notice Tally’s look of surprise. “She could be our mark. And working on that project with her will be a great way to get close to her. Then I can _recruit_ her and we can get the hell _out_ of here.”

“That is true. That project will get you to spend a lot of time together. Which is good, because she seems like a hard nut to crack,” Scylla added casually.

Abigail, surprised, whipped her head back to look at the dark-haired girl. She’d leaned back and was now looking out the window with a blank look on her face. Her comment had been almost… a compliment. Probably the closest thing to it Scylla had ever said to Abigail, at least. Her grip on the steering wheel relaxed slightly.

“That’s so exciting!” Tally clapped her hands together. Abigail shot her a small smile. “What will the competition be?”

“I’m not sure yet. She said that she’d be choosing it.”

“Wow. So mysterious. Oh, I know! You should convince her to make it a drag race around the streets of Salem. You’re really good at that and I bet she’s a thrill seeker. Plus, she probably won’t expect you to be so good at driving. You should lead her into choosing it, though, just to be safe.”

“That’s… a good idea. I think I’ll try that. Thanks, Tally.”

“You’re welcome!” Tally grinned.

The three continued to chat for the rest of the car-ride. Despite the resentment Abigail still felt towards Scylla, it felt nice to be able to just casually talk with her and Tally. It was the first time since they’d been assigned the mission that they felt anything like a unit. It was nice, she decided.

When the trio got to the apartments, Scylla and Tally unloaded from the car without hesitation. Abigail, though, hung back.

“You coming?” Tally asked.

“Yeah, in a minute. I’ve got to call Libba first.”

Tally nodded and continued up the stairs, leaving Abigail to pull out her phone and type in the numbers scrawled in black ink along her arm. _That’ll take some scrubbing to get off_ , Abigail thought with ire.

The line rang a few times before Libba picked up. She answered with a simple, deadpan “Hello.”

“Hey, Libba. It’s Abigail. We have a competition to set.”

“Oh, right. You mean money for me to win.”

“Yes, well, we still need to decide on the competition,” Abigail continued brusquely.

“Right. I… well. I don’t really have any ideas for that.”

Abigail laughed harshly. “Are you serious? Maybe I don’t want to partner with you on this project after all.”

“Alright, fine.” Libba responded immediately. Abigail smiled into the phone – so Libba had an ego to defend, too. “Let’s make it a drinking game.”

_I could win that._ “We still have class tomorrow,” Abigail hedged.

“What are you, scared?”

Abigail scoffed. “If it’s a drinking game you want, let’s do it at Gerit’s party tomorrow.”

“Party?”

Abigail felt a twinge of superiority; Libba didn’t know about the party. “Yeah. Tomorrow night, at Gerit’s house on Beltane Lane. I can send you the information, since you apparently need it.”

“Whatever. Fine. Just be ready to get your ass handed to you. And bring the money, in cash.”

“Whatever. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Libba hung up abruptly but Abigail found herself smiling. A successful interaction, overall.

But now, time to call her mother. Hopefully, that would get her some answers. Her mother didn’t pick up the first time Abigail called, but answered the second call at the last moment.

“Hello, darling. I’m quite busy at the moment.”

“Hi, mom. This will only take a bit. Can you talk for a few minutes?”

A pause. “Yes, I suppose I can take a few minutes.”

“Great, thank you. I just have some questions about why I’m out here in Salem. I think Scylla could handle the situation fine and that Tally and I could be sent back to help the Cyber unit. I miss doing that work – I’m trained for it. I don’t really understand why I’m out here on a recruitment mission. It’s strange.”

“Well, honey, it is good to get experience in all of the units. If you are to be a leader, you must be familiar with every element of your organization’s work. The same goes for Tally. And besides, I don’t trust that Scylla character. I don’t trust her to take the work seriously.”

Abigail considered Scylla’s apparent fixation on that short blonde, Raelle. “Alright, well I guess that makes sense. But is that still enough of a justification to have _three_ Spree agents who all have specialties in other areas out here to recruit _one_ hacker for potentially _months_? That doesn’t really make sense to me.”

“Well, darling, it doesn’t have to. You aren’t a leader yet.” _Ouch._ “And besides, you aren’t necessarily out here to recruit _one_ hacker. In fact, you _can_ and _should_ be trying to reach as many as you can. You’re at a code school, for Christ’s sake. I would have thought that would be obvious.”

Abigail cringed. “Okay, but I still think Scylla can cover it. And besides, we don’t work well together.”

“All the more reason for you to stay there and _work it out_.” Abigail cringed at how her mother’s voice hardened and slowed to emphasize those last three words. “Frankly, I’m disappointed in you for trying to get out of this. Bellweathers don’t shy away from challenges or responsibility. I thought I taught you as much.”

Abigail opened her mouth to respond, but there was nothing she could think of to say.

“You have a mission, Bellweather. Bring me back that hacker and as many others as you can. And _don’t_ ask me to reassign you again. If that’s all, I must get back to my work now. Good day.”

Abigail stood there with her silent phone to her ear for what felt like minutes. She felt hollow, like her mother’s words had reaching inside of her and scooped out her sense of self. _Maybe I should have scheduled that drinking contest for tonight_ , she thought wryly.

Abigail cleared her throat and lowered her phone. _Tomorrow._

“So, there’s this party tonight. You should really come with me,” Byron said, holding the door for Raelle as they left class to head to lunch.

“Oh, um. You should know, I’m not interested in guys.”

“But I am. Exclusively. I see no conflict here.”

Raelle laughed and blushed. “Oh, fair enough. I’d love to go, then. But I think I might be going with my… friend.”

“Friend?” Byron lifted a suggestive eyebrow and Raelle just laughed.

“We’ll leave it at that for now. You should eat lunch with us today and meet her.”

“Oh, so is that where you’ve been running off to during lunch?”

Raelle laughed again. “Don’t worry. I was still eating well.” They both laughed at that. The pair headed towards an empty table, claiming it.

“Hey, Libba! Come sit with us.” Byron called out to a short girl with a head of curly dark hair and grungy style. _She’s cute,_ Raelle thought. _Not as cute as Scylla, though._

Libba sauntered towards the table. She sat down with a huff and a conspiratorial smile. “Are you guys going to the party tonight?” 

“Not like I have much of a choice. It’s at my house,” Byron responded.

“You didn’t tell me it was at your house,” Raelle smiled.

“Yeah, it’s me and a bunch of guys. What can I say? I missed living in a fraternity.”

“Well as long as you don’t party like one, I’m in.” Catching sight of Scylla across the cafeteria, Raelle waved a hand. “Hey, Scylla!”

Libba turned around to where Raelle was looking. “Who’s that, your girlfriend?” There was an edge to her voice. _Is she jealous?_ Raelle wondered.

“That’s Scylla.” Raelle answered simply. She liked Scylla, but she wasn’t in the business of giving things a name prematurely. If she was going to commit to this girl, she wanted to mean it. Now wasn’t the time for that; they’d only just met several days ago, after all.

Libba just chuckled dryly as Scylla made her way over to the table. Scylla must have felt something from Libba’s reactions because she kissed Raelle on the cheek as she sat down next to her. Raelle smiled and put a hand on her thigh.

Scylla turned her attention toward the table then, smiling and giving a slight wave. “Hi! I’m Scylla.” Raelle smiled, watching as Scylla’s gaze seemed to harden and linger on Libba. She enjoyed the display.

Byron squinted a bit as he looked Scylla over. “Nice to meet you. Byron.”

“And I’m Libba.” She gave a coy smile with that same edge from earlier as she introduced herself.

Scylla nodded at each of them. “Well, are you all going to the party tonight?”

“We were just talking about that, actually. Byron’s house is the one hosting it. And I’m guessing you’re coming with me?” Raelle responded.

Scylla smiled. “You guessed right.”

“Yeah, should be a real rager,” Libba added dryly, poking at her food. “I’m going to be having a drinking competition, so things should get interesting.”

“Oh you are, are you?” Byron questioned.

“Yeah. This chick, Abigail, wanted to rope me into a months-long group project with her. I refused, so she made a bet. If I win the drinking game, she pays me $300. If she wins, I do the project with her.”

Raelle spluttered into her drink with laughter. “What the hell kind of deal is that? Who is this chick?”

“ _That_ would be Abigail. She can be… intense.” Scylla smiled.

“Like, your roommate, Abigail?”

“That’s the one.”

“Holy hell. You’d better beat her,” Raelle shot towards Libba. Taking a closer look at the girl’s slight build, she raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you’re good to take her on in a drinking match?”

Libba scoffed. “Maybe _you’d_ need to be worried, but not me. Swythes can handle their liquor.”

Raelle threw her hands up. “No offense. I just thought-”

“Well, drinking game or not, I know that I, for one, will be getting drunk tonight.” Byron raised his water bottle for a dramatic swig.

“Pregaming, are we?” Scylla laughed. “Would my toes curl if I smelled that water?”

Byron sighed. “No, I wish. But I’m paying way too much for this damn school to show up drunk.”

“I hear that,” Raelle laughed.

“Aren’t you the one that skipped orientation?” Byron shot back.

“Okay, but that was _orientation_. And besides, I got a better offer.” Raelle shrugged. Scylla nudged her thigh with a smile. “Should we bring anything tonight?” Raelle asked Byron.

He shrugged. “Bring a bottle of something strong. We might run out otherwise. And tell everyone else to do the same. Nothing worse than a dry party. And _you_ ,” Byron looked pointedly at Libba. “You, definitely bring your own booze. Don’t go through everyone else’s liquor for this little competition of yours.”

She nodded. “Alright. But with $300, I would be more than able to cover any dents we make.”

“I’ve never actually seen a drinking game, except in movies,” Raelle admitted, looking to Libba with curiosity. “How are you going to do it?”

Libba shrugged. “Sit us down at a table and go shot for shot. First one to give up, throw up, or pass out loses.”

Raelle grimaced. “Sounds super fun. Best of luck to the both of you.”

“I’m looking forward to taking this Abigail down a few notches. So, this is going to be a _spectator_ drinking game.” Libba leaned forward, a vicious excitement plain on her face. “It will be an event to behold.”

Scylla laughed. “All the better. Just be aware, she’s very competitive. She won’t go down easy.”

“What have I been saying? Swythes are fire and fury. She doesn’t stand a chance.”

Raelle and Scylla exchanged a look.

“Either way, I’m sure it will be fun to watch,” Byron added.

“Wow.”

Scylla smiled and gave Raelle a twirl, showing off her little black dress. This was the first time Raelle had seen her wear makeup, let alone a dress. She’d added a touch of blush, smokey eye, and mascara to give herself a dark, mysterious look.

Raelle pulled her in for a deep, hungry kiss. “You sure do clean up nice.”

“And you’re no slouch either. That blazer is… wow.” Scylla pulled back to look at Raelle. Her white-blond hair was pulled back and sleeked down. She was wearing black pants and a slim, black, buttoned blazer with nothing but a long silver necklace underneath. Scylla found her gaze pulled down Raelle’s chest. The outfit was simple, but it _worked_ for her. A dark smokey eye made the whole effect even more powerful.

“We’re matching!” Raelle laughed, looking down at herself and back at Scylla.

“We… Well, I guess we are. But only because we both happen to have good taste,” Scylla responded, leaning in for another kiss.

Raelle pulled back after a few moments, clearing her throat. “Alright. We’d better leave soon, or we might not leave at all.”

Scylla laughed. “Yes. And I do not want to miss this showdown between Abigail and Libba.”

“Yeah, that should be good.”

They set out the door to walk the handful of blocks to the house on Beltane Lane.

By the time the pair walked through the doors, the music was blasting and a few dozen people were there already. Tally was among them, talking animatedly with Gerit. The two were close, leaning into each other as they talked. Scylla nudged Raelle, pointing them out to her.

“Think they’ll be getting to know each other tonight?” she asked.

“Don’t they already?”

“No, like Biblically,” Scylla laughed.

“ _Oh_. Yeah, probably.”

They laughed as they walked to the back, dropping off the remains of their cheap bottle of vodka with the rest of the drinks.

“Alright. Let’s toast,” Raelle said, raising her pre-mixed bottle of vodka with sprite, ice, and lime.

Scylla raised her own bottle in response. “What shall we toast?”

Raelle thought for a moment before smiling slyly. “To skipping orientation.”

Scylla laughed. “To skipping orientation.” They each took a deep swig of their drinks, sharing grimaces and laughing again.

“My my _,_ aren’t you two a sight!” Byron gasped, approaching them with his hands clasped.

“Why thank you. That dress shirt suits you awfully well,” Scylla returned the compliment. Byron grinned and made a move to dust his shoulders. He was wearing a deep purple dress shirt with black buttons and a silky sheen tucked into form-fitting black dress pants. Especially with the dark eyeliner he wore, the outfit brought out the hollows of his cheeks and the contrast of his dark hair and pale skin.

“Not a bad start to the party,” Raelle piped up, nearly shouting to be heard over the music.

Byron flapped a dismissive hand. “Not to worry. This is the pregame. The main event is still to come. Welcome to Beltane Lane! This will be but the first of many, I’m sure. Anyways, I’m happy to see you both! _Next_ time I see you, I want those drinks to be half gone!” Smiling mischievously, Byron danced away to the next partygoers.

“Think he’s enjoying this?” Raelle quipped. Scylla giggled into her shoulder, starting to feel the first hints of vodka in her system.

“I am, at least. Feels good to have such a dame on my arm.” Scylla whispered the last part into Raelle’s ear, nipping at her earlobe. She reveled in the sound of Raelle sucking in a breath.

“Careful, now. Don’t make me take you home so soon,” Raelle cautioned, moving her hand to grip Scylla’s hipbone. This time, it was Scylla’s turn to gasp. “Come on, let’s go talk to people.” Scylla’s date took her hand and dragged her over to a group of people gathering around a table.

“What’s going on here?” Scylla asked the group.

A tall boy with dark hair, mocha skin, and a sweet smile turned around to answer her. “We heard there’s going to be a drink-off tonight! So, we’re setting it up. Libba requested a show so we’re going to give her one.”

Raelle nodded. “You know Libba?”

He shrugged. “A little. She’s more friends with Byron.” He glanced over his shoulder at a tall girl with long, reddish-blond hair speaking animatedly with a shorter, black-haired girl. Abigail was there with them, somehow looking simultaneously smug and uncomfortable. “But Tally is roommates with Abigail.”

“Me, too,” Scylla piped up.

“Oh, really? So you work with Tally and Abigail?”

“Yeah, but we’re in school right now. Has Libba gotten here yet?”

He shook his head. “No, but Abigail’s right there. I’m Gerit, by the way.”

Scylla and Raelle each introduced themselves before Gerit turned around to talk to get Tally’s attention.

“So, which one’s Abigail?” Raelle asked.

Scylla nodded in Abigail’s direction. “Tall one back there, salmon dress.”

As Raelle looked over to her, though, something seemed to catch Abigail’s attention. Raelle and Scylla watched as she sauntered over to a guy who seemed to have just walked in the door. It looked like she had him bewitched within moments.

Scylla laughed. “Ah, at last. A boy has caught her attention.” Raelle raised her eyebrows. “Abigail likes boys a lot,” Scylla explained. “So if she’s found another one, that’s good news for me. She is _so_ much more bearable when she’s getting laid.”

“Come on, I want to introduce you to Tally,” Scylla urged. “Hey, Tally! Meet Raelle.”

“Scylla! Oh my goodness, Raelle! It’s so wonderful to meet you!” Tally gushed.

“Hey. Nice to meet you to,” Raelle responded, looking a little overwhelmed by Tally’s positive attention. The three talked for a while. Tally introduced Glory, bringing Gerit back into the conversation as well. Scylla immediately understood why they’d become fast friends; Glory and Gerit both had a warmth and positivity to match Tally’s. _It must have been difficult for her to be around just Abigail and I_ , Scylla mused. Tally seemed so happy with them. _How on Earth is Tally with the Spree?_

After a while, Abigail came back around with the guy she’d just met in tow. “Of course, Libba Swythe would be late to her own party. She’s afraid she’s about to get her ass kicked,” she boasted. “Everyone, this is Clive. Clive, everyone.” Clive waved.

“Obviously, you’ve never heard of being fashionably late, _Bellweather_ ,” Libba’s voice piped up. She pushed through the crowd to show her face.

Abigail frowned. “How do you know my last name?”

“Are we going to get this thing started or what?” Libba continued, undisturbed. She pushed through the crowd to get to her seat, pulling out her chair with an exaggerated movement. She maintained a sneer directed at Abigail all the while.

Abigail rolled her eyes before taking her own seat. “Byron?”

Byron appeared from the crowd, holding aloft a slip of paper and taking a position at the edge of the table. He cleared his throat before beginning to speak in an exaggerated, booming voice. “As the Master of Ceremonies before this holy Drink-Off, I will hereby proclaim the participants, the stakes, and the rules.”

Byron paused as people from around the party gathered around to see what was going on. Once he was satisfied that he had the room’s attention, he continued. “On the one side, here we have Libba Swythe, reigning champion. On the other side, we have the newcomer Abigail Bellweather. If Libba wins this drink-off, Abigail will owe her $300 in penance. Should Abigail win, however, Libba will have to work with her on the semester webpage coding project.” Byron paused as the crowd snickered and murmured at the stakes. Scylla almost felt sorry for Abigail as she saw her eyes flick nervously towards the crowd.

“Now, for the rules! The stakes have been set and the only way out now is through. Each competitor will take a shot. After each shot, they will put their glass down upside-down and stand up. They must then sit down – unassisted – and flip their glass back up. Only then will they be poured another shot. The liquor tonight, chosen by Libba, is –” Byron stopped to grimace, “Jose Cuervo.” Again, there were a few chuckles in the crowd. “The game will only be over when one of the participants gives up, throws up, or passes out. Now, let the game begin!”

The crowd, including both Scylla and Raelle, cheered. Byron was a damn good showman and the air felt charged with participation. He poured the first shots, placing them in front of them. Libba took hers immediately with only a small flinch, eyes on Abigail all the while. Abigail took a moment, smiling slyly as she took her shot. She didn’t flinch at all. Both of them set their glasses down upside down and stood up, maintaining intense eye contact all the while.

“Alpha females, much?” Raelle snickered to Scylla. “That is some insane sexual tension.” Scylla giggled. “Here, though. Let’s take sips along with them. Simulate the experience.”

Scylla nodded and took her first swig alongside Raelle.

Byron poured shot after shot, the crowd hooting and hollering each time the girls stood up. Eight shots in, both Abigail and Libba grimaced at the shot. Byron stopped pouring then to tell some elaborate and gross drinking-game story that must have come from his frat-house background. When he returned to pour the next shot, both participants looked significantly more disgruntled than before.

Ten shots in, Libba wobbled while standing up. She nearly fell, but a tall boy in a sweater with curly black hair caught her arm.

“Hey! _Unassisted,_ ” Abigail cried out. Her voice was slowed with the beginnings of drunkenness.

“I wasn’ bout to pass _out_ I was juss’ a lil’ _woozy_ ,” Libba defended.

“Fair’s fair. Augustin, if Libba’s about to fall again, don’t catch her until she’s about to hit her head. Now, you’re both ten shots in. Does either of you want to give up?”

“No!” they both exclaimed in unison. Byron just nodded and poured the next shot. The crowd cheered.

At 15 shots, both girls started to wobble standing up. Byron offered them another out and they both refused again. At 18, Libba put a hand over her mouth as if to stifle some vomit.

“Having trouble, Swythe?” Abigail teased. Libba shook her head vehemently, indicating for Byron to pour the next shot.

At 20 shots, Byron stopped for another story. Halfway through, Libba made the same gagging motion. Gerit sprung into action, handing her a pre-prepared puke bag. He gave it to Libba just in time. The crowd reacted with mixed cheers and disgust as Libba unloaded into the bag.

“Ha!” Abigail cried, jumping to her feet. Apparently having moved a little too quickly, though, she reached down to stabilize herself against the table. Clive stepped in to help and she looked at him with dreamy eyes.

Byron shook his head before reaching for Abigail’s hand to thrust it into the air. “As Master of Ceremonies, I hereby declare Abigail the winner!”

Scylla, approaching drunk herself, cheered for Abigail despite herself. Feeling Raelle’s skeptical glance, she leaned over to murmur, “Come on. You at least have to admit that was impressive.”

“It was _long_ is what it was. C’mon, let’s go outside now. It stinks in here.”

“That was quick thinking, getting that bag to Libba like that.”

Gerit smiled back at Tally. “Well, I’ve seen my fair share of kids about to hurl. I might not have been in Byron’s frat, but I still got invited.”

“Really? What was that like?” Tally asked, leaning in eagerly.

Gerit shifted. “Not as great as you might think. People make it seem like it’s this great, fun, thing. But the reality is that it’s a bunch of kids acting out their drama while addled by excessive amounts of alcohol.”

“I wouldn’t know. This is… Well, it’s sort of my first party,” Tally admitted.

“Really? How is that possible? Being so beautiful, I’d think you’d get invited to parties all the time.” Gerit didn’t seem to register what he’d said until seconds later when his eyes widened and his cheeks flushed.

Tally giggled. “Well, I did have parties but there were never any boys. Like, ever.” When Gerit’s eyes widened in confusion, Tally explained. “I grew up on a matrifocal compound in California. It was fun, and nice, but very sheltered. As I’ve been learning,” she laughed, gesturing around her. “This is so fun! I can’t believe I didn’t get to do any of this!”

Gerit leaned in with a smile. “Well, you’re getting to do it now.”

“Yes, I am! Would you like to do a shot with me? It would be my first!”

Gerit grinned. “I would be honored. You stay right here – I’ll be right back.”

Tally smiled after him and was taken by surprise by the sensation of an arm being flung over her shoulder.

“How do you have so many _friends_? I mean come on, what is it? Are you magical? Are you casting a _spellI_?” Abigail slurred into her ear. Tally winced at the rancid smell of tequila on her breath.

“What do you mean? You have friends here. Like, what about that boy?” she protested, maneuvering to get out from under Abigail’s arm. Abigail seemed terribly unsteady without the support, though, so Tally moved her so that she was leaning against the wall.

Abigail flapped a hand dismissively. “Gone. And that’s a _boy_ , anyways. Boys are easy.” She paused to yawn. “But you, you’re friends with half the girls in here already. With _Scylla_. And _Libba_.”

“Um. Well, I just talked to them.”

“Just talked to them? When I talk, they go away!”

“Well, um. You can be a bit intense. And… condescending.”

Abigail scoffed. “Only because _I know_ that I’m _better_ than them.”

“That’s exactly what I mean! Nobody wants to be talked down to. It might be good if you just, I don’t know, relax a little bit.”

Just then, Gerit came back, two shots in his hand. “Hey, whoah, what are you doing here? Byron should have you on drunk watch.” He looked around for Byron. Abigail, seeing an opportunity, snatched the shots from his hands and downed them in quick succession. Gerit looked at her in shock. “Alright, you _definitely_ need to be on drunk watch. Come on, let’s go find Byron.”

Abigail struggled a little bit but ended up stumbling along with Gerit, Tally close behind. When Byron saw Abigail, he cursed and took her from Gerit.

“Thanks. I’m going to _lock_ her in the bathroom this time.” Seeing Tally’s look of concern, he quickly explained. “They have food and water in there, and nothing sharp. They are both absolutely blasted and if we leave them wandering around they’re likely to get into trouble. Don’t worry, I’m staying sober tonight and I’ll check on them.” When Tally still looked concerned, he rolled his eyes. “I’m also gay. They have nothing to worry about. Now come on, you. Let’s get you close to a toilet.”

Tally watched him march her off with concern.

“Don’t worry. Byron’s friends with Libba and they’re both in there. They’ll be taken care of tonight,” Gerit reassured her.

Tally shook her head. “Alright. She’s not my responsibility, anyways.”

“Alright. Now come on, let’s get you your first shot!”

Libba was hunched over the toilet when Byron brought Abigail into the bathroom. She looked up to laugh when she saw Byron have to catch Abigail to keep her from falling into the bathtub. “Weak!” she slurred.

Abigail smacked Byron’s hands away once she caught herself. Once he’d seen that she’d taken a defiant seat in the bathtub, he threw his hands up and left the bathroom, grumbling inaudibly. “I’m not the one worshipping the porcelain Gods,” Abigail clapped back, though somewhat belatedly.

Libba opened her mouth to respond, but instead dry-heaved into the toilet.

“Why the _fuck_ did you choose Jose Cuervo for this, by the way? Do you hate yourself or something?” Abigail complained.

“I thought it’d be worse f’you,” Libba slurred in response.

“It won’t be _good_ but I wouldn’t say it’s worse.”

“How the fuck are you less wasted than I am right now?”

Abigail laughed dryly. “Alcohol helps with the _fucking_ unbearable social pressure of high society. Runs in the family,” she responded with a dismissive wave of her hand. She shouldn’t be sharing this with Libba of all people, but she was just drunk enough not to care.

“Oh, so you’re a rich kid? I guess that tracks. You reek of privilege.”

“ _Half_ of the family. The Bellweathers were slaves.”

“Slave-owners?” Libba hiccuped.

“ _Slaves_. My mom married into a rich Boston clan. Gave me everything I could have asked for,”

“And then some I’ll bet,” Libba laughed again.

Abigail rolled her head over to fix Libba with a glare. “You can shut up about my mom.”

Libba pulled a mockingly apologetic face. “Oh, I’m sorry, are you a mommy’s girl?”

“My _mother_ is a powerful woman doing the best she can in a fucked up world. I shudder to think about your parents, seeing what they produced.” Abigail gestured at Libba to emphasize her point.

“The Swythes are immigrants. We earned everything we have through hard work. We didn’t just marry rich.”

Abigail tried to get out of the bathtub to give Libba what-for at the comment, but fell back down when her head began to spin intolerably. She groaned and Libba laughed again. “Fuckin’ Cuervo,” she grumbled.

“Yeah, clearly not my best choice there.”

“At least we can agree on _something_.”

“Okay, fine. Fuck Cuervo.”

They laughed at the agreement, although each of them quickly groaned soon after.

Raelle closed her eyes, enjoying the sense of her body moving with Scylla’s in time to the pulsing music. Warm with the buzz of alcohol and elated with the mood of the room, she let herself focus on the beautiful girl in front of her. Just then, Scylla straightened up to throw Raelle a mischievous glance over her shoulder. It did something pleasant to Raelle’s gut.

Scylla just kept dancing. Raelle danced right along with her.

They danced for what felt like hours. Sometimes with each other, sometimes with people around them. But they always returned to each other. Each time they did, Raelle was happier to see Scylla. She felt a magnetic pull towards her. She wanted to be next to her, hands on her over that black dress.

When she saw a guy getting up close to Scylla from behind, Raelle decided she’d had enough. She grabbed Scylla by the hand, pulling her out the front door. As soon as they were out, Raelle pinned her up against the wall and kissed her fiercely. When her hand began to drift along the inside of Scylla’s exposed thigh, though, Scylla stopped her.

“Take me home,” she whispered in her ear.

Raelle stepped back to smile at her. “Of course.”

She held out a hand for Scylla to take to step down to the pavement. To her pleasant surprise, Scylla didn’t let go of the hand once they’d gotten to the pavement. As they walked home together, hand in hand, a warmth settled in Raelle’s gut that refused to budge. When Scylla put an arm around her waist and leaned her head on her shoulder, it grew and moved up into her chest. _Whoah_.

As they approached Raelle’s apartment, Raelle got out her keys to undo the lock. Scylla took the opportunity to put her arms around Raelle’s waist, placing gentle kisses along her neck. Raelle shivered. When Raelle finally got the door open, Scylla nudged them inside without taking her arms away. She kicked the door behind them and turned Raelle around. Rather than immediately leaning in for a kiss, though, she put a hand on Raelle’s cheek. The other hand she let settle on Raelle’s hip. She looked into Raelle’s face with a small smile playing along her lips.

The warmth in Raelle’s chest exploded outwards, filling her whole body. It hit her core with a particular ferocity.

Deciding she couldn’t take it anymore, Raelle leaned forward to close the gap and meet Scylla’s lips with her own. Unlike previous times, though, she kissed her gently, savoring every moment. When they eventually fell into the bed, Scylla intertwined her legs with Raelle’s and propped herself up on her elbow, her other hand gently tracing Raelle’s exposed collarbone.

“I had a lot of fun tonight.”

Raelle reached out to put an arm around Scylla’s waist. “Me too.”

“I liked especially that I was there with you. I don’t know what we are or what we’re even doing really, but, Raelle… I want to be with you.”

Raelle leaned forward for a gentle kiss. As she pulled back, she tucked a strand of hair behind Scylla’s ear. “I want to be with you too.”

Scylla smiled and dropped her head to Raelle’s chest. Raelle responded by wrapping her arms around her and holding her tightly. She felt so relieved to hear those words. She’d been developing feelings – real feelings – for Scylla. It had been terrifying, especially since Scylla had never been with a girl before. But she wasn’t afraid anymore. She could let herself go, let herself get truly emotionally comfortable around Scylla. Already, it felt like her heart was expanding in her chest.

They embraced for a few moments longer, before Raelle broke the silence. 

“Alright, I’ve been waiting to get that dress off you all night.”

Scylla laughed and happily obliged.


	8. what the f***?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two months have passed since chapter 7 and everyone's gotten closer. Scylla finally starts to open up to Raelle, but it's incomplete. Libba receives some startling news. Raelle starts to doubt her relationship with Scylla.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all... I really wish I knew what was going on with the indents. Deepest apologies to the syntax nerds.   
> Besides that, though, I'd love to hear from y'all in the comments! The angst is coming and this chapter is a setup (I delivered some sweetness before to soften the blow). Enjoy!

~ _TWO MONTHS LATER_ ~

“Close, but no cigar. You need a backslash there or you’re going to get a syntax error,” Libba commented over Abigail’s shoulder.

“Okay, okay, fine. It should work this time.”

Both waited with anticipation as the program loaded their code and began to run it. When the screen they were working towards popped up perfectly, they both cheered.

“Ah, finally!”

“God, why is it so much harder to put things together than to take them apart?” Abigail asked, closing her laptop and leaning back against the couch she sat on.

“Um, thermodynamics I guess,” Libba responded casually. She closed her own laptop and sat down cross-legged on the couch next to Abigail. She pulled out an orange and began to peel it.

“Thermodynamics?”

“Yeah.” Seeing Abigail’s skeptical smile, Libba laughed. “You know, entropy, like the second law of thermodynamics? Didn’t you ever study biology?” She threw a bit of orange peel at Abigail.

“Hey! I mean, I guess. I just haven’t thought about it all that much.”

“It’s actually a pretty cool concept. One of my friends studied biology and philosophy, and she explained it to me. Basically, things tend to go from a more organized to a less organized state. Sounds simple, right? When it comes to biology, that literally means that putting things together means that you’re fighting entropy and need energy. Taking things apart, though, means making them less organized and tends to mean less energy. But the _really_ cool part she told me was that entropy, by tending towards chaos, can actually make things. Like, life wouldn’t exist without entropy. And biodiversity? That’s entropy playing out among organized systems. Order from chaos.”

“Crackpot theory,” Abigail said simply after a moment.

“Hey! It wasn’t my idea. Even if it’s not true, it’s interesting to think about it. Look it up sometime.”

“Well, Miss Chaos, I, for one, am starving. What do you say we go out for some Pad Thai? It is Friday, after all.”

“Bellweather, are you asking me out on a date?”

“Pad Thai, _Swythe_.”

Just then, the door swung open and Tally came tumbling in. “Oh, hi guys! What’s up?”

“We were just about to go out to get some Pad Thai,” Libba responded with a grin directed at Abigail.

“Yeah, want to come with?” Abigail added.

“Yeah, actually. That sounds great. I don’t really have any spending money though—”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you covered,” Abigail interrupted.

“Can you pay for me, too?” Libba asked.

“Oh, come on Swythe. I _know_ you have money,” Abigail rolled her eyes.

“Oh, but do you? I mean, do you really?” Libba teased, leaning forward and tossing an orange slice into her mouth.

Their exchange was interrupted by the door opening again and Raelle and Scylla filing in.

Scylla raised an eyebrow as she looked around at the apartment. “I think this is the most people I’ve ever seen in this apartment.”

“Yeah, because it’s kind of a shithole,” Libba quipped.

Abigail threw the bit of orange peel from earlier back at her. “Oh, if it’s such a shithole, why haven’t I ever seen _your_ place?”

“It’s not my fault you’re allergic to dogs!”

“We’re going out to get Pad Thai! Do you guys want to join us?” Tally asked Raelle and Scylla.

“Abigail’s paying,” Libba added.

“Am not!”

“Just for me,” Tally clarified, looking back at Libba and Abigail with a fond smile.

Raelle laughed at their antics. “That sounds fun, actually. What do you think, Scyll?”

Scylla looked back at Raelle with a smile, taking her hand in hers. “I’m in.”

Abigail groaned. “Oh my god, you’re calling her _Scyll_ now? You two are gross. Look at them, they’re even holding hands!” she appealed to Libba.

Libba nodded with a grimace. “I’ve got to agree on this one. You guys are certifiably gross.”

Tally rolled her eyes this time. “Oh, come on. Just because you guys are allergic to affection doesn’t mean that they have to be! Anyways, I’m starving, so let’s go get this Pad Thai already!”

The group shuffled out towards food, bantering and grumbling all the while.

“Good morning, beautiful. Happy Saturday.”

Scylla awoke to a kiss on her neck and a hand on her hip. She rolled over to face Raelle with a smile.

“Good morning.” After a brief kiss, she closed her eyes and brought her hands to her face for a deep sigh.

“You okay?” Raelle asked, her concern immediate.

“It’s… complicated,” Scylla responded, her voice muffled by her hands.

“I do complicated,” Raelle responded simply.

Scylla groaned and pushed her head into the crook of Raelle’s neck. Raelle automatically wrapped her arms around her, pulling her in closer. It felt safe.

“What’s going on? I know you’ve been stressed out the last few weeks. I think I know some of what’s going on, and I’ve been trying to give you space. But you can talk to me, okay? And I can’t help you unless I know what’s going on.”

“I’m afraid you’ll think differently of me,” Scylla spoke into Raelle’s chest.

“Hey, Scyll. Look at me for a sec.”

She pulled away slowly, opening her eyes to look up into Raelle’s. They were soft.

“I’m in this with you, and we’re going to figure it out together, okay?”

She leaned back into Raelle, holding her tight. When she spoke, her words were muffled against Raelle’s skin. “After my parents were killed by an oil company, I joined the Spree. Abigail, Tally, and I – we’re all part of it. We’re radical environmental activists. But Bellweather’s mom, I think she’s bad news. I think she’s the reason why a dozen or more of my friends were killed by the FBI.”

Raelle was quiet for a few seconds. “Okay.”

Scylla lifted her head to look up at her. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” Raelle ran her fingers through Scylla’s hair.

Scylla smiled and leaned in for a kiss that deepened quickly. Raelle traced her fingers along Scylla’s naked ribcage before returning to grip her hipbone. When Raelle captured Scylla’s lips with her teeth for a sharp nip, Scylla couldn’t help the small moan that escaped her. Raelle’s fingertips traced back up along the side of Scylla’s ribcage until they reached her shoulder, where she suddenly pushed her down. Raelle used the position to move so that she was over Scylla, her hair dangling into her face. She reached up to touch Raelle, grinding into Raelle’s well-positioned thigh. She bit Raelle’s lip and let scratched Raelle’s back, enjoying the whimper that resulted. Raelle kissed her harder, letting one hand fall to Scylla’s breasts. She squeezed and rolled a nipple between her thumb and index finger, causing Scylla to arch up into Raelle. Raelle, never one to miss an opportunity, took advantage of the position to attack Scylla’s exposed neck, sucking and nipping at her pulse point and along her collarbone. Scylla gasped at the feel of Raelle’s lips, remembering with a rush what they felt like lower on her body.

Raelle removed her hand from Scylla’s nipple to drag her fingertips down her waist, settling at her hipbone. Scylla shuddered. As she had many times before, she marveled at just how effortlessly Raelle could make her melt at her fingertips. In all her life, she’d never felt anything like it before.

Raelle’s mouth moved from Scylla’s collarbone to trail gentle kisses down along her chest. Scylla tangled a hand in Raelle’s bright blonde hair, squeezing gently as she took her nipple into her mouth. Raelle sucked and nibbled, shifting onto one elbow to free her other hand that she brought around to grip Scylla’s waist, pulling it towards her. Scylla curled into her, bringing one of her legs up to pull Raelle closer towards her with her heel. When Raelle finally relinquished her nipple, Scylla pulled her head up for a bruising kiss. Raelle shifted again, this time putting an arm under Scylla’s back so she could hold her as they kissed. Before long, though, her other hand drifted down Scylla’s body once more. This time, it traced a lazy pattern across her stomach and along her groin. Within a minute, Scylla’s hips were bucking, begging for more.

Scylla brought her hands to Raelle’s face, gently tracing her cheekbone with her thumb.

“Please, Rae,” she whispered.

Raelle smiled and kissed her again as her fingers lazily glided over to Scylla’s core. She dipped her fingers in Scylla’s wetness before dragging her fingers up through her folds. Scylla gasped. Raelle proceeded to trace gentle circles over Scylla’s clit, her fingers now practiced in the pressure and rhythm particular to Scylla. This morning, though, she went a little light. The result was Scylla bucking her hips to get more friction, pulling Raelle closer to her. It was infuriating, yes, but it felt delicious.

Raelle continued to tease Scylla, moving her head down to suck and nibble on Scylla’s collarbone. She continued that way for agonizing minutes. Scylla felt the pressure building up inside her, like a searing heat concentrated around Raelle’s practiced fingers. She inhaled a skittering breath, focusing on the sensation that had come to dominate her mind. Raelle traced gentle kisses along the side of her neck before taking her earlobe into her mouth. Scylla bit her lip and entangled her fingers in Raelle’s hair once again.

“I want you to come for me, baby,” Raelle whispered.

Heat rushed through Scylla like a wave at the statement. “ _Fuck._ ”

Scylla couldn’t contain herself anymore; the floodgates burst and pleasure flooded through her body. Her legs clenched and her hips bucked. Her hand clenched in Raelle’s hair, her mouth opened to a silent _O_ as her whole body shuddered with the force of a powerful orgasm.

“Fuck,” Raelle whispered. She seemed entranced by Scylla’s body writhing underneath hers.

When the waves of the orgasm finally subsided, Scylla pulled Raelle towards her for a bruising kiss. After she pulled back, they kept their faces close, panting together. Scylla pushed Raelle over before splaying her body over hers, reaching up to wrap her in an embrace. Raelle just chuckled and brought the blankets up around their exposed bodies.

Scylla remained like that for a few minutes, allowing her heart rate to steady and relishing the feel of Raelle’s skin against hers.

Before long, though, she remembered herself and began to marvel at Raelle’s body beneath her. She placed gentle kisses along her collarbone – one of Raelle’s most attractive features, in her opinion – before moving up to capture her lips with her own. Propped up on one elbow, she let her other hand explore Raelle’s body. She gasped at the wetness she found after a few minutes of exploration. Raelle’s hips bucked as she did.

With a mischievous grin, she pulled back from Raelle to pepper kisses along her body, trailing slowly down. When she reached her core, she looked back up at Raelle. Desire surged within her at the sight of Raelle’s face – eyes wide, brows furrowed, mouth slightly parted. Looking at her with desire and _need_. It made her feel powerful.

She dropped her head, keeping eye contact with Raelle as she dragged her tongue up along her folds. Raelle gasped and reached down to tangle a hand on Scylla’s hair. Scylla looked down to focus on her task at hand, tracing light circles along Raelle’s clit. Raelle’s breathing accelerated after just a few circles. Scylla’s heart thumped with excitement when Raelle’s legs began to quiver. She lifted one hand up to reach for Raelle’s chest, toying with one of her nipples. She reveled in the gasp that ensued.

Scylla continued, gradually increasing the pressure and speed of her admonitions. The quivering in Raelle’s legs increased accordingly. Scylla glanced back up at Raelle and was pleased to see her looking down at her with focus. Scylla held her gaze for a few seconds, picking up the pace with her tongue. Raelle threw her head back and her legs suddenly clenched around Scylla as her hips bucked upwards. Scylla kept going, watching with pleasure as Raelle came undone beneath her. _Fuck._

As the spasming in Raelle’s legs subsided, Scylla pulled away and moved up along Raelle’s body to meet her for a gentle kiss. Raelle’s arms encircled her, pulling her in for a tight embrace. Their bodies moved together until they found themselves comfortably interlocked, arms around each other. They held that position for a while as their racing hearts calmed and they further relaxed into each other.

“Happy Saturday,” Scylla finally murmured. Raelle’s chest shook underneath her head as she chuckled.

“I’d say,” Raelle breathed, planting a soft kiss on Scylla’s head.

After a few more minutes, Raelle shifted from underneath Scylla.

“Bathroom.”

Scylla shifted and turned over, so she was looking up at the ceiling.

 _So, she knows about the Spree, and this is how she reacts,_ she mused. How much more could she tell her? How much more _should_ she tell her? It already felt like a weight off her shoulders to tell Raelle what she had. But could she tell Raelle that she’d been sent to Salem specifically to recruit _her_? How would she look at her, once she knew that? How could she ever trust Scylla if she thought their whole relationship was built on manipulation? Was there any way Scylla could explain it that wouldn’t leave doubt to fester between them?

Scylla rolled over to look at the closed bathroom door – Raelle was washing her hands now. She’d be back at any moment.

Would Raelle open up about her past as a hacktivist? If she didn’t, would Scylla need to be concerned? _Maybe that’s actually preferable,_ Scylla reasoned. _If she lies to me, she can’t hold it against me that I didn’t tell her she was my mark. Plus, if she doesn’t tell me about her hacking, there’s no way I could know that she’s my mark._ _Plausible deniability._

Raelle opened the door and met Scylla’s eyes with a smile. She jumped back into the bed next to her with a playful laugh and jostle. After a moment, though, she stilled. As she looked at her wide-open eyes and solemn face, Scylla felt a hole opening up in her gut. She dimly registered it as fear.

“Alright. So, in the spirit of honesty, there’s something I should tell you, too.”

 _Don’t say it_ , Scylla pleaded internally. _Plausible deniability._

“My mom worked in a hospital. She died…” Raelle paused to look away and take a deep breath. “The hospital didn’t provide her with basic protective equipment for dealing with patients with infectious diseases. Someone came in with an antibiotic-resistant strain of tuberculosis. Even after she identified it and specifically requested equipment, the hospital didn’t give it to her. Her patient was dying in front of her, though, so she tried to help him. She caught it, and she died.” Raelle’s voice was soft, her eyes fixated on the wall to her right. Scylla’s heart ached; she knew Raelle’s pain. She reached out to lace her fingers with Raelle’s limp hand. Raelle looked down at the touch before curling her fingers around Scylla’s. When she looked up, she was wearing a hard smile.

“I couldn’t let that stand. My dad, he’s a computer scientist. He works on cyber security systems and, well, after that, he taught me a lot about it. I didn’t have much interest in anything else, and neither did he. So, it worked. Anyways, once I knew enough, I hacked into the hospital’s financial records and communications. The bastard that ran the hospital, _Edward F. Jenkins_ ,” Raelle spat the name out. “He’d been embezzling state funds big-time. I have no idea how he got away with it. But he refused protective equipment because he said the hospital was broke, when really, he’d been stealing. I put that information together and sent it to a reporter to be published. Except, of course, because this place is so messed up, that wasn’t enough to get this guy put away. I looked into his shit and found out he was a pedophile. That finally got him. In fact, he’s still in prison to this day.” Raelle smiled proudly.

Scylla smiled back, but it felt fake. There was no denying it now – Raelle was her mark. _This_ was who she’d been sent here to find. She’d known that since the first night with the sake and the ramen, but actually having it confirmed was another thing entirely. Now she had to keep secrets on two sides – from the Spree, that she’d found her mark, and from Raelle, that she _was_ her mark. Her stomach did an uncomfortable flip at the thought. But, of course, she had to hide that from Raelle. Information like Raelle had just shared with her should be met with a much different reaction.

“A vigilante hero. How sexy.”

“You’re one to talk, miss _radical environmentalist._ What exactly does that mean, by the way?”

Scylla shrugged, grateful for the new direction the conversation had taken. “We do a lot.” She paused for a moment, deliberating just how much to share with Raelle. But, figuring that it didn’t matter at this point anyways, and knowing that it might deflect questions later on, she decided to tell most of the truth. “We’re separated into three units – recruitment, field, and cyber. Cyber’s new, though. I’m a part of the field unit, although… well, things there are really messed up. Abigail and Tally are both in cyber. Abigail’s mom, Commander Bellweather, is the head of the cyber unit.”

As Scylla spoke, Raelle’s brows furrowed. “You said something about the FBI, about you being in trouble… are those the same thing?”

“Yeah,” Scylla sighed. “It was a weird operation from the start. We were supposed to blow up an oil distribution facility up north. I was supposed to go with…” Scylla choked on Porter’s name. _That_ was a whole other topic that she did not want to broach now. Maybe not ever. “With someone else from the field unit. But they went AWOL, and Bellweather insisted that Abigail go as a last-minute replacement. So, we went, and we set charges along the facility. But then a bunch of workers showed up. Abigail wanted to detonate anyways, but I fought her. She got rowdy, and a security guard caught us. We barely made it out. We went to go lay low, and when we reconnected, we found out that the FBI had raided the field unit. There was a firefight. But, before the FBI could take people in for questioning, the field unit triggered an explosion that destroyed everything. It saved the Spree, but it killed everyone in the field unit.” Scylla looked down. Guilt tore at her chest and throat like a rabid little monster. She swallowed it down. “My friends. Most of my friends died.”

Scylla recalled the first weeks after the incident. The guilt had been so raw, so powerful – it had torn her to pieces dozens of times each day. Back then, all she’d thought about was how much she wished she’d just let Abigail detonate the damn explosives – workers be damned. How could she possibly justify sacrificing a dozen of her friends whose sole objective was to stop a corrupt system’s world-ending activities just to protect a dozen people who’d devoted their lives to supporting exactly those world-ending activities? Back then, the insults Abigail and her mother levied at her had stuck. She’d felt like she betrayed her friends; that her cowardice, her fear of getting her hands dirty, had directly led to their deaths. Sometimes she still felt that way. Even with the suspicion she had about Bellweather and the circumstances surrounding the whole affair, if she had to do the whole thing over again, she’d probably go through with it this time. At least that way, she wouldn’t have to live with this terrible guilt that time didn’t seem to have weakened at all. Every time she thought about it, it hurt just as much. It felt like her insides were covered in scar tissue by now.

Raelle pulled her in for an embrace that she returned eagerly. Pressed against Raelle, her nose filled with her scent, her fingers running through her hair, the monster seemed to settle down.

“How are you still friends with her?” Raelle asked with some incredulity.

“Abigail?”

When Raelle nodded, she shrugged.

“I don’t think she knew what was going on. When that security guard caught us, he caught _me_. Abigail clocked him. That’s the only reason I got away. Without her, I’d probably be stuck in federal prison right now.”

“What about her mom?”

“Her mom is… on a whole other level. Abigail acts like her lapdog, but I don’t think her mom tells her what’s going on. I think she puts a lot of pressure on her. I don’t know. But now that she’s not constantly around her anymore, Abigail is starting to act like more of a person. I don’t know if I quite trust her, but I don’t really despise her anymore.”

Raelle hummed.

“So Bellweather. You think she had something to do with all of this?”

“Yes. The more I’ve thought about it, the more sure I am. And I’m worried, because it doesn’t really make sense why she sent us out here.”

“Why _did_ they send you out here? The Spree don’t seem like the kind to be needing web design skills.”

 _Shit_. Scylla thought fast, trying to think of a way to answer the question without telling the truth – Bellweather sent them out here for Raelle.

“No, not really. They sent us out here for recruitment. People with coding skills, people who are in transition and may be willing to join.” _Close enough._

Raelle hummed again. “I thought you said there was a whole recruitment unit, though? And that neither you or your roommates are in recruitment?”

“Yes. That’s exactly why it’s weird. And they sent us out here with the expectation of being here for the _whole program_ , which is weird. Also, recruitment isn’t usually a mobile thing. Usually it just involves training people who work at a place with high turnover, like a school or homeless shelter or something. Like, for this mission, it’s weird that they sent us in as students instead of just going for an instructor as a long-term gig.”

“Maybe they’re leading up to that? What exactly were your instructions?”

Scylla looked up at Raelle. She didn’t want to answer that question. “The instructions were bullshit. And even if they weren’t, I am almost positive now that Bellweather played a role in what happened to my friends.”

A smile crept onto Raelle’s face. “Well, I could take a look. See if I can find something helpful.”

“I’ll say it again – a vigilante hero? Very sexy,” she grinned, pulling Raelle towards her for a kiss.

The air was crisp Sunday morning. Libba stood outside, leaning against the doorframe to the trailer-park unit she’d spent the last 9 weeks living in. The walls felt like they were closing in on her lately, so she relished any chance she got to get out and into fresh air. This morning’s chill was especially welcome. It made her feel more alert, more aware of her body’s position in space. It also helped distract her from the anticipation she felt.

Anacostia and Porter were returning today.

They’d had very little contact since the pair took off to do a deep-dive into one Petra Bellweather. After their near-escape nearly four months ago now, they’d gone to Boston, D.C., and probably a few others to find out more about the Spree’s new de facto Commander. Libba, for her part, had been monitoring Bellweather’s activity on her computer, but the Commander was apparently very careful to limit the sensitive information she sent out online. It made sense; she’d been a bigwig at the National Security Agency for years. As a hacker herself, Libba, too, had no trust in digital communication.

In the past two months or so, Libba had seen a troubling uptick in Bellweather’s traffic. Much of it seemed to be related to the “Atum project” and involved a large outreach effort to groups the Spree had never been in contact with before. By the looks of it, it included many militias. While this was a concerning development in itself, it was made even more worrisome by the fact that Libba still had no idea what the Atum project actually involved. A part of her wondered whether it was meant to be atom, as in atom bombs, but that seemed unlikely with Bellweather. She was a cold operator with a cunning, pragmatic kind of intelligence. It did not seem like her to misspell that word on a project. That said, perhaps she intentionally misspelled it to avoid programs trolling for keywords in communications among her less-protected and less-careful collaborators.

An online search of Atum was similarly confounding. Atum was the name of a biotechnology company that does gene design and synthesis and protein engineering, all of which are technologies with the capacity to be extremely dangerous. Atum is also apparently the name of an Egyptian god – the first god, in fact.

So, either Bellweather had a spelling problem, an interest in genetic arts and crafts, or a desire to share the Good Word of the ancients.

“Just get here already,” Libba muttered into the morning. “And bring something useful, please,” she added in a smaller voice.

Libba startled at the sound of a sudden voice behind her. “Don’t worry. They’ll be here soon. Should be any minute now.” Alder’s voice, deep and composed as ever, did bring a measure of comfort.

Libba glanced back at her mentor with a sigh. “I just hope they can tell me something about the Atum project. It’s killing me reading about it every day and not knowing what it is. I mean, how the hell does Bellweather do it?”

“She always was insistent about meeting in-person.”

“What about bugs? Is she just not concerned with that? I mean, come on. A middle schooler could handle that technology.”

“Yes, but how many middle schoolers could successfully use that technology against her at any given time?”

“At least a couple,” Libba grumbled.

“Certainly. But hundreds could all be listening virtually. And, more importantly, the middle schoolers are much easier to discover and trace. A skillful hacker can be virtually untraceable.”

“What, did she send out memos or something?” Libba sassed.

“To ignore the lessons of an enemy is to accept the eventuality of defeat.” Alder replied calmly, directing a resolute stare towards the horizon.

Libba wrinkled her nose. She wanted _so badly_ to sass back at Alder, but her square-jawed elder had a unique way of making Libba think and listen to what she said. She’d always admired that about her, going back to the first time she met her on her aunt’s ranch in Idaho. Alder had just been visiting then, but they’d made an instant connection. Libba had been a wild teenager then, full of anger with nowhere to put it. Despite hating authority and scoffing at adults, Alder had won Libba over almost immediately. She’d been like a second aunt ever since.

“Come on. I made tea. Come inside and let’s talk about this. And you can give me an update on the Abigail situation.”

Libba acquiesced, letting Alder put an arm around her and steer her back to the kitchen. As they sat down, Alder pushed a steaming cup of Libba’s favorite chai tea towards her.

“There’s nothing new. I’ve been vague about my past, she’s completely unsuspecting. We’ve talked about radical things and I can tell she’s been trying to lead me down the path to radical action.”

“But she’s said nothing of the Spree?”

“Not directly. She’s talked about some organizations taking fate into their own hands, but she hasn’t directly called it the Spree.”

“What about her mother? Has she talked about her at all?”

Libba laughed. “She talks about her all the time.” At Alder’s wide eyes, Libba put her tea down to elaborate. “But not in any way that’s useful. At first, she talked about her like she was some sort of god. But recently it’s just been to complain about what she was like when Abi was growing up.”

“Abi?” Alder raised an eyebrow. Libba shrugged it off.

“We’ve been spending a lot of time together. And besides, a three-syllable name is just… intolerable.”

“Has she hinted towards anything that might be about to happen?”

Libba shook her head. “Nothing specific. She’s just talked about the people ‘rising up against an unjust system.’ Honestly, I don’t think she herself has even really thought the rhetoric through. It sounds like she’s just got some vague ideas about it she heard from her mother.”

“Well, as far as recruiting goes, I give her poor marks. Two months without even mentioning the Spree by name?” Alder scoffed. “Embarassing.”

Libba smiled ruefully. “I know she misses her old job. I see her questioning things out here. Back there, by mommy dearest’s side, she knew what she had to do – whatever her mom said. Make her family proud, or whatever. But she feels cut off from all of that out here. She’s having to make her own decisions and do things she’s not comfortable with. Socializing, especially. When she got here, she so obviously saw herself as separate from everyone else, as better. But now she’s starting to see people as people.”

“You two really _have_ gotten close,” Alder remarked over her cup of tea.

Just as Libba opened her mouth to respond (she didn’t know what with), a knock sounded at the door. They both rushed to the door immediately, but waited for the distinctive Spree knock before opening the door.

Alder opened the door and ushered Anacostia and Porter inside. Once they were out of sight and had dropped their luggage, Alder laid a motherly hand on Anacostia’s shoulder.

“It’s good to see you again.”

Anacostia nodded, her face stoic. “Likewise. Our mission was successful. We have a lot to go over.”

“Hi, Porter,” Libba greeted. He looked troubled, though Libba couldn’t say she’d seen him look any other way in the time they’d known each other.

“Hey, Libba. Miss me?”

Libba laughed awkwardly. “No, I never miss. I’m a great shot.”

Thankfully, Alder interrupted the interaction. “Come on. Libba and I were just sharing tea. There’s still some hot water left.”

A few minutes later, the four were seated around the kitchen table with steaming cups of tea in front of them. A tense silence hung in the air.

“So. What did you learn?” Alder began.

“Petra Bellweather’s history is much different than she’s led on. She lied to us, Alder. And she only used the Spree to solidify her power.” Anacostia reported resolutely.

“I guessed as much,” Alder sighed. Her eyes glanced up to Libba. “Well, I suppose I ought to recognize your intuition once again.”

Libba shrugged. “Trust issues come in handy sometimes.”

“We visited her old haunts across the east coast and spoke with her old colleagues. They painted quite the picture. Bellweather was intelligent, efficient, and secretive. She climbed the ranks with astonishing ease, leading many to wonder whether she did so using illegitimate means. But that’s not all. During her counterterrorism work, groups would sometimes seem to evade her. Her colleagues and superiors found this surprising, given her skills in the job. Some of them even –”

“She’s got a bioweapon.” The whole table looked to Porter at his interjection. When Anacostia scowled at him, he shrugged. “That’s the important point. She let terrorists get away and probably leveraged her connections to get a bioweapon. And she’s a manipulative, power-hungry narcissist so she’s probably going to use it. And she’ll probably have it all set up so that she becomes the de facto leader of the U.S..”

“ _That_ is purely speculative. Our research does suggest that she may have blackmailed a group to procure a bioweapon—”

“Project Atum.” This time, it was Libba who interjected. Anacostia scowled at being interrupted again, but she let Libba elaborate. “I’ve been monitoring Bellweather’s computer. She’s been forming connections with militias across the country. She hasn’t been talking about environmentalism – she’s talked about ‘taking America back’ from corporations, and _others_ , from all levels of government. The kind of talk that can let them fill in the blank for whatever they’re mad about.” Libba paused for a loaded look to emphasize the point before continuing.

“And Atum is an Egyptian god. Or a bio-engineering company. But anyways, there’s a lot of different stuff out there, but in the Book of the Dead Atum talks about destroying everything and returning it back to the water. And he’s representative of the duality of creation and destruction. I mean, Atum created himself and everything else. But then he also threatened to return everything to nothing. The ouroboros, the symbol of a snake eating its own tail that’s supposed to mean the end and the beginning, _that_ comes from Atum in the Book of the Dead.”

“We did learn that she took interest in Egyptian mythology as an undergraduate,” Anacostia interrupted.

“So, what, Bellweather thinks she’s some sort of a god?” Porter asked.

“At least, destroy and creator. I think a bioweapon could be pretty destructive, don’t you?” Libba shot back.

Porter shook his head and scoffed. “Seriously, what does she think will come of all this? The odds of her actually securing some sort of power from this are basically zero.”

“The only guaranteed outcome would be destruction,” Libba added quietly.

Porter groaned and ran his hands through his hair. “We have to stop her. I can’t let that bitch kill my family.” Then he dropped his head to the table and put his hands over his ears.

Alder looked at him with a grim expression. “Perhaps I rushed you two. I’m sure you must be exhausted from your travels. We can return to this after you’ve had some time to take care of yourselves.”

Anacostia nodded curtly before pulling Porter up and leading him away to get cleaned up. Alder and Libba exchanged a loaded look.

“Well, this is certainly some troubling information. But we must carefully evaluate all of the information available to us before we jump to any conclusions.”

Libba nodded, but that didn’t change what she thought. A bioweapon perfectly explained all of the activity around Project Atum. Bellweather was about to release a bioweapon – she was sure of it.

“I’ll be outside,” she said, standing up from her seat at the table.

“Alright. We’ll go over Anacostia and Porter’s full report tonight. I’ll expect you to be there, as well. If you really think Project Atum has to do with a bioweapon, bring evidence to show us. We can only make a decision once we have all digested all of the information.”

x

Libba leaned against the doorframe wishing she had a cigarette between her fingers. She’d picked up the habit in Portland, but Alder had kicked it to the curb when they began spending more time together. Usually, she was grateful – it was expensive and made her smell bad. But at times, like right now, when she was filled with a nervous energy and wanted a real excuse to sulk outside somewhere, she missed it.

Porter opened the door and leaned against the opposite doorframe, breaking her reverie. She didn’t say anything and neither did he. At least, not for a while.

“So. Scylla’s out here, right?”

Libba nodded, keeping her eyes forward.

“You know we were together for almost six years?”

Libba looked over at him with raised eyebrows. “ _Six years?_ ”

He nodded, his eyes somber. “I was going to marry her.”

Libba broke eye contact and tried to suppress a wince.

Porter continued. “I love her. I always have, and I always will. I don’t care what she’s done, I don’t care that she’s with the Spree. I know she’s damaged. Hell, I _joined_ the Spree for _her_. I would do anything to get her back.”

Libba suppressed a wince again, remembering how close Scylla had gotten with Raelle in the past two months.

“How is she?” Porter asked.

Libba shifted uncomfortably. “Uh. Well, she’s sort of seeing someone. I don’t know, though, it could be for her mission.”

“She’s seeing someone?” he seethed. Libba looked away and scratched her head, nodding slightly. “Who?” he demanded.

“Her name’s Raelle—”

“She left me for a _girl?_ ”

“She already left you,” Libba shot back. She took a breath to soften her approach. “She’s just with a girl now.”

Without another word, Porter went inside and slammed the door behind him.

“She looks happy with her, if you care,” Libba muttered grouchily. She didn’t know Porter well, but she didn’t have any love for him. This interaction didn’t leave her feeling much better about him. Once again, she wished she had a cigarette. This time, though, she wished she could flick it disdainfully.

Instead, she checked the time. She was supposed to meet with Abi soon to work on their project. Abi, the daughter of a would-be mass murderer. Libba thought back to the times they’d spent together. She’d always hated Abi’s mother, but during the last two months she’d begun to see something redeeming in Abi. Begun to like her, even. Had she known about Project Atum this whole time? Was she just waiting for the cue to start killing people? Start killing Libba?

Anger flared deep in Libba’s gut. She’d begun to trust Abigail. If she’d known about this the whole time and done nothing to give Libba any hint, that amounted to betrayal. Especially since she’d been courting Libba to join the Spree. The feeling of betrayal was sickening. She hated it. Her fists clenched involuntarily by her sides as she thought of every smile, every joking exchange between the two of them over the past two months – as Abigail’s mother arranged the destruction of the world.

She wouldn’t let herself be deceived any more.

Abigail opened the door to greet Libba with a smile, but Libba just pushed past her without any acknowledgement.

“ _Someone’s_ eager to work this Saturday morning,” she joked. Libba didn’t respond; instead, she just took a seat on the couch and opened her laptop.

“Oo-kay. Well, it should be a relatively straightforward day. Just finishing up the code on the user database that we started last time. You keep working on the back-end, and I’ll work on the front-end?”

Libba just nodded, still refusing to look Abigail in the eye.

“Are you good? You haven’t even looked at me once today,” Abigail interjected after a few minutes.

“Fine.” Libba didn’t even look up to say it.

She scoffed. “I’m sorry if it took me a while to answer my phone yesterday. I was busy.”

“What, too busy kicking puppies and killing babies to pick up the phone?” Libba shot back. Her voice seemed to drip with acid. Worst of all, she still didn’t look up from her screen to say it.

Abigail strode towards her, fully angry now. “What the _hell_ is your problem?”

Libba finally looked up to fix her with a look of hatred. “ _You._ You’re my problem. Strutting around like you own this goddamned place, acting like you’re not complicit. _Lying_ to me. Who the _fuck_ do you think you are?” she raged.

Taken aback, Abigail said nothing. Libba scoffed and slammed her laptop shut. She stuffed it in her bag and got up abruptly, violently brushing past Abigail on her way to the door. Abigail watched as she walked out and slammed the door behind her.

_What the fuck?_

Porter donned a hoody and headed to the front of the house. He’d heard from Alder that Libba was going over to Abigail’s, and he knew that she and Scylla lived together. When Libba strutted out the door to go meet her, Porter waited for a few minutes before following her out. He kept his distance, always keeping about a hundred yards in between them. He didn’t need to explain himself to her – especially not after seeing how she’d responded this morning when he’d asked her about Scylla.

After about fifteen minutes of walking, Libba turned into an apartment complex and scaled the stairs. _Close_ , Porter thought.

Growing up next to Scylla, their homes had been about the same distance apart. He remembered with a pang the countless thousands of times he’d made the familiar trek to Scylla’s house. It had been like a second home. At least, before everything went off the rails. Before Scylla’s _parents_ went off the rails. Of course, though, Scylla had been soon to follow.

Porter took a seat on a park bench at a bus stop across the street, careful to keep an eye on the door. He was surprised to see Libba come marching out after only a few minutes of being there. He pulled his hood lower and leaned down to avoid her seeing him. It seemed to work. She began walking back to the house where she’d come from. Once she was far enough away, he settled back into his seat. He trained his eyes on the apartment door once again.

A part of him, a big part, wanted to march up to the door right now. It had been so long since he’d seen Scylla’s face. But, the calculating part of him warned against it. What if Scylla wasn’t there, and he just saw Abigail? That could jeopardize everything – not just for him, but also for Alder and Anacostia. And Libba. Tipping off Bellweather could land all of them with assassins. He shuddered at the thought, remembering his near miss. If Alder hadn’t saved him at the last moment…

Ideally, he wouldn’t be here at all. In an ideal world, Scylla would have never moved to Louisiana. They would have gone to college together. Not as exes at the same college, but as the team they’d always been. They would made friends together, gone to parties together, gotten good jobs together. Lived a normal life, happy with each other. She was his best friend, after all.

But life isn’t ideal. Instead of all that, Scylla’s parents went off the rails their junior year of high school. They’d stayed together, long-distance, for more than a year after that. That had been tough; he only got to see Scylla once during that period. Still, they’d made it work.

At least, until her parents died. He’d been there for her then. He spent dozens of hours reaching out to friends of Scylla’s parents. He tried to arrange for a funeral in Massachusetts. When Scylla insisted he move it to Louisiana, he begged the people he’d invited to travel south for the funeral. And then, after all of that, she broke up with him.

He knew she’d been hurting. He knew he was a reminder of a life she said she wanted to leave behind. But, at the same time, he couldn’t accept that. How could she just leave behind everything they’d shared together? The sleepovers when they were kids? The homecoming dances? The late nights complaining about their parents? The love, the _real_ love?

But she did. She told him to go back to where he came from and not come back. So, he did. He went back to his life, or at least, tried to. But it felt empty without Scylla. He graduated high school and even went to college for a year. Joined a fraternity, saw other people. Somehow, Scylla still ended up at the same college. Still, it took almost a full school year for him to see her in the gardens. He tried to talk to her, but within weeks it was as though she’d disappeared. Hoping to see her again, he started working around the garden. It was there that he’d followed Scylla into the Spree.

He didn’t believe in any of the nonsense the Spree spouted about the need for radical change. Climate change was concerning, yes, but it wouldn’t take a political revolution to address. And it definitely wouldn’t be fixed by the kind of self-affirming rhetoric that the Spree liked to use in its echo chambers. No, he was only here for Scylla. Once he had her back by his side, he’d go back to school and finish his M.I.S. degree. Maybe he’d be able to change things that way. If Scylla still wanted to be an activist, she could do so – with room and board provided by someone with a real job. Hell, he’d build her a garden if she wanted one. All that really mattered was that they’d be together again. Just like before.

He had plenty of time to think about his dashed plans for a future with Scylla from his seat on the park bench. He perked up every time he saw a car pull into the parking lot across from him, but every time it was a disappointment. He must have spent hours sitting there; the sun was behind him now. Still, he was as determined as ever.

Finally, someone made their way up the steps and towards the apartment Libba had entered this morning. He leaned forward in his seat, trying to pick out the details of their face. With sinking disappointment, he realized it wasn’t Scylla. This girl was taller, and she moved differently. More energetically. She also had long, reddish hair. _Definitely not Scylla_.

Just then, his phone buzzed in his pocket with a message from Libba.

6:58 pm – _Where are you?? Alder wants to debrief._

Porter sighed. He wouldn’t head back right away. Still, he would eventually. He kept his position on the park-bench, watching the apartment door with renewed concentration.

Maybe ten minutes later, his patience was rewarded. An old beater car pulled into the parking lot. Two girls stepped out. He recognized Scylla immediately. He watched with intensity as she flipped her hair and laughed, her gaze fixed on the girl across from her. An old wound in his chest flared at the sight. He remembered when she used to look at _him_ like that. The wound grew and throbbed as they headed towards the apartment, the other girl’s hand in Scylla’s back pocket. He watched them until they went inside the apartment.

 _She’s here. She’s finally here._ His mind raced. Images of the short blonde she was with flashed behind his eyes. _What the fuck does she have that I don’t?_ The pain in his chest morphed into an anger that rushed through his body and made him want to hit something. Hard. He leapt suddenly to his feet, his fists clenched by his side. He began to stride towards the door, ready to confront them both. At the foot of the stairs, though, he changed his mind. What would Scylla think, seeing him like this? Wearing a hoodie, storming in after watching her apartment like a creep? No, that wouldn’t do. He wants to get her back, not get a restraining order filed against him. No. He’d have to be smarter than this. Just then, he heard the sound of a door opening above him. He hurriedly walked to the opposite side of the stairs, pulling his hoodie up and leaning against a column.

“You really oughtta’ just bring more pairs of panties when you come over,” an unfamiliar voice joked.

“How was I supposed to know I’d ruin so many?” Scylla responded. She laughed then. It sounded musical. “At the rate we’re going, I think I may just need to buy some more.” Porter winced at the topic of conversation. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what they were talking about.

“Yeah. And I think you should just leave them at my place,” the other voice responded. Porter clenched his fists as the fire in his chest reignited.

“Not a bad idea. Although you may need to be careful. You may get charged for having an extra roommate.”

Porter’s nails left half-moons in his palms.

He stayed where he was until he heard them get back into the junker and drive away. He stepped out to watch them drive away, noting the direction.

After a few more minutes, he pulled out his phone to respond to Libba. As he walked back to the small Spree stronghold, he etched the blonde’s face and voice into his memory and thought of plans to get rid of her.

He would be with Scylla again, if it was the last thing he did.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go grocery shopping with me? It’s Sunday. It’s basically law that it’s grocery day,” Raelle said from bed, reaching an arm out towards Scylla.

Scylla smiled and leaned down to kiss the top of her outstretched hand.

“That may be so. But Abigail said I needed to come by. And we’ve actually been getting along, so I don’t want to mess that up for everyone.”

Raelle groaned. “Ugh. Okay, fine. Go make nice with baby Bellweather.”

“I don’t think it should take very long. And, speaking of Bellweather, do you think we could work on that tonight?”

“Yeah, sure.” Raelle got out of bed with a yawn and a stretch. Seeing Scylla already dressed and looking at her expectantly, she pulled on her skinny jeans, a hoodie, and an oversized flannel before pushing an old beanie over her unkempt hair.

Scylla smiled, pulling her in for a kiss. “You look hot as a rebel.”

“Suits us both, I think,” Raelle smiled.

x

Fifteen minutes or so later, Scylla found herself walking into the apartment she shared with Tally and Abigail.

“Hey, Abigail. I’m back,” she called out into the air. Within a minute, Abigail strode into the room with a wild look on her face and glasses askew.

“There you are. Okay, I need to ask a favor.”

“Hello to you too,” Scylla muttered, taking a seat on a couch in the living room.

“Right. So, Libba was over here yesterday. Only it was weird. Really weird. She wouldn’t talk to me, and then called me a fucking liar, and I have no idea what’s going on.”

Scylla raised an eyebrow. “What did you do, sleep with her brother?”

Abigail rolled her eyes and began pacing anxiously. “I’m being _serious_ , Ramshorn! I think she might know that we’re with the Spree!”

Scylla shrugged. “Shouldn’t she? We’re on a recruiting mission, after all.”

Abigail stopped pacing to scowl at Scylla, who put her hands up defensively.

“Yes, but if she knows about the Spree, she should know about it from _me._ If she knows from someone _other_ than me, _that_ means we have a goddamn PROBLEM!”

“Okay. So, even if that _were_ true, what do you want me to do about it?”

“I don’t know, talk to her! Try to figure out what she knows!”

“If she thinks _you’re_ in the Spree, wouldn’t she also think that _I’m_ in the Spree?”

“Ramshorn, I swear to god _!_ ” Abigail began gesturing with her hands quite aggressively. “Just do it, okay?”

“I don’t know. I think you might be reading into that too deeply –”

“Ramshorn, either you do this, or I am telling Commander Bellweather to pull you back to cyber and you never get to see your little girlfriend again. Do you understand me?”

Abigail’s voice was ice cold. She’d gotten closer to Abigail with each word, until she was standing over Scylla. She’d even leaned down to jab a finger at Scylla’s face, for good measure. Scylla stood up then, rising until her face was right up next to Abigail’s. Mustering all of the acid she could, she uttered one word. “ _Fine._ ”

She pulled out her phone, pulling up Libba’s contact. She dialed the number and held it to her ear, fixing Abigail with defiant eye contact all the while. She felt stupid for having thought she could actually make peace with Abigail. She just wasn’t the type.

“Hello?” Libba’s voice on the other line sounded cautious and confused.

“Hey, Libba. It’s Scylla. How’s it going?”

“Um, good. How about you?”

“I’ve been better, I guess. My roommate’s being a real asshole and Raelle’s busy.” She flipped Abigail off as she said the first part. Abigail returned the gesture, unimpressed.

“Well, that tracks.” Libba’s deadpanned.

“Anyways, would you want to go and get coffee or something? On me.”

“I never say no to espresso. Where should I meet you?”

“Wally’s? In a half hour?” Scylla suggested.

“Make it 45 minutes and we’ve got a deal.”

“Great. See you then.”

“Later.” Libba hung up after that final comment.

Scylla put her phone away and crossed her arms. “Satisfied?” She and Abigail hadn’t broken eye contact during the conversation. She refused to be the first one to break it now.

Abigail nodded stiffly before backing off. “Get me something useful.” She finally broke the eye contact as she retreated to her room, leaving Scylla seething in the living room.

_So much for getting along._

Raelle cruised through the grocery store, carefully picking out foods that could keep her within her budget but that Scylla also liked. There wasn’t much Scylla didn’t like, but grapes were definitely worth it. Scylla liked to pop them after sex, which inevitably evolved into a throwing competition, which inevitably evolved into laughing, then making out, and then finally more sex. Definitely a grocery staple.

As she was walking through the bread aisle, her eyes on the products, someone bumped into her – hard. It was enough to make her drop the basket she’d been carrying out. The impact sent her canned food rolling away in every direction. She looked up at the perpetrator to say something, but he beat her to it.

“You’re a lot better at keeping your shit together than you are at picking girlfriends. And, judging by that –” he gestured at the newly-created mess, “you don’t keep your shit together.” Without another word, he turned around and strode away.

Raelle looked after him, mystified.

_What the fuck?_

She collected her spilled basket, recalling his appearance. He’d been sort of tall, with a squarish face and short, curly blond hair. _Does he go to the code school? Maybe he has a crush on Scylla._ She cast another irritable glance back at his direction, but he was nowhere to be found.

Thankfully, she was almost done with her grocery run because the interaction had significantly soured her mood. She headed to the self-checkout and hurriedly scanned everything in her cart.

As she was walking out the doors, she thought she saw Byron ahead of her. She began to head towards him. But, as she did, he saw someone else. When she followed his eyes, she saw the same blond-haired boy. To her surprise, Byron leaned in to give the guy an intense hug. It was the kind of hug you’d give to someone you hadn’t seen in a long time. She averted her eyes and quickened her pace out of the store.

_What the fuck?_

She pulled out her phone to call Scylla. She answered on the third ring.

“Hey, what’s up?” she asked. Raelle opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, she heard another voice on the line.

“Is that your girlfriend?” Raelle only just made out what it said.

“Who’s that?” she asked.

“It’s nobody. Hold on.” There was some scuffling on the line like Scylla was moving to somewhere else. “What’s up?”

The interaction at the store hadn’t made Raelle jealous before, but combined now with Scylla’s reaction to an unexpected call, she could feel the seeds of doubt taking root in her gut.

“Well, I was just at the store when this guy ran into me – hard – and knocked all the stuff out of my hands. Then, he said some shit about me being bad at picking girlfriends. Do you have any idea what that’s about?”

Scylla clucked her tongue. “I honestly don’t. Think maybe he was just homophobic?”

“No, because I saw him giving Byron a big hug right after.”

“Well, I’m sorry Rae. I don’t know what to tell you. I’m sorry that you had to deal with that.”

The voice from before chimed out again, a little clearer this time. “Come on, get back in bed!” The voice was followed by rustling again.

Raelle’s stomach dropped. “Who’s there?” she demanded.

“Nobody, sorry. Is it okay if I call you back later? I’ve got to deal with something real quick.”

Raelle pulled the phone away from her ear to look at it with a sense of betrayal. She hung up on the call without saying anything else. Anger, betrayal, and confusion boiled in her gut with a vengeance. Maybe that creep from the grocery store had a point, after all.

“Well, I’m sorry Rae. I don’t know what to tell you. I’m sorry that you had to deal with that.”

Libba snuck up behind Scylla to speak into her phone’s microphone. “Come on, get back in bed!”

Scylla turned around to give her a solid smack before returning to the phone.

“Who’s there?” Raelle asked.

“Nobody, sorry. Is it okay if I call you back later? I’ve got to deal with something real quick.” Scylla held the phone to her ear, waiting for an answer. But, not getting any, she pulled her phone away to see that the call had been ended.

“Raelle just hung up on me,” she thought out loud. She turned around to fix Libba with an accusing glance, but she just shrugged and took a big sip of her iced coffee.

“Raelle just hung up on me,” Scylla repeated.

“So what? You just told her to call you back.”

“Raelle has never hung up on me. That wasn’t funny, that stupid little joke of yours.”

Libba grinned. “Okay, but that little crisis was _so_ easy to avoid. All you had to do was say that it was me and I was being an idiot. It’s very believable.” She took another sip. “Why didn’t you just say it was me? Raelle probably got suspicious because you said I was ‘nobody’.” She used airquotes to emphasize her point.

“I don’t like answering questions like that. I’ve dealt with jealous relationships before and I don’t enable that kind of behavior anymore.”

Libba pulled a funny face at her comment but didn’t say anything.

Scylla cleared her throat and continued. “But anyways, enough about me. What’s up with you?”

Libba looked at her like she’d grown a third eye. “Okay, if you’re trying to convince people this isn’t a first date, you’re doing a really bad job of it. ‘Enough about me?’ Come on.” She took another sip, finishing off that drink. She turned around to look towards the counter, making eye contact with the staff and shaking it. When they got the message that she wanted another, they exchanged a thumbs-up.

“Really?” Scylla was annoyed now.

Libba shrugged again. “Never reject the kindness of strangers, I always say. And besides, why would you invite me to hang out if not to talk about yourself? We don’t know each other at all.”

“I don’t know. I guess I just thought I wanted to get to know you better.”

“Abigail put you up to this, didn’t she?”

Scylla opened her mouth to lie through her teeth, but realized it was pointless when she saw the look on Libba’s face. So, she opted for the truth instead. “Yes. She threatened me into it, in fact.”

Libba grinned. “Now we’re getting somewhere. What did she threaten you with?”

 _Raelle._ “Doesn’t matter. If we’re going to cut to the chase, let’s just get right to it. Why did you blow up at her today?”

Libba leaned back and looked at the counter behind her. She didn’t speak for a while, instead just watching as they made her second iced coffee. When she did speak, she was still facing away from Scylla. “I found out some things I didn’t like.”

“About?”

Libba shrugged. “Why does she care so much, anyways?” Having asked the question, she fixed Scylla with a hard look. By the concentration on her face, Scylla could tell she was being analyzed.

_What if Abigail was right, and she really does know about the Spree?_

Scylla leaned back, carefully marshalling her face into a neutral expression. “You guys are doing a group project together. It’ll be important for your portfolios. She takes her schoolwork very seriously.”

“Bullshit. That does _not_ explain why she was willing to put down _$300_ and get blackout drunk to do the project with me in the first place.”

Scylla raised an eyebrow and decided to take a different tactic. “Ever consider that she might _like_ you?”

Libba scoffed. “I’m likable, but not that likable.” Scylla rolled her eyes.

“No. I mean, more than friendly. Come on, you’ve got to know that’s a possibility. I’m dating a girl, for Christ’s sake.” She had to suppress a laugh at the squint that prompted in Libba.

“Okay, first of all, I’m bi, so don’t come at me. Second of all, that might be true _now_ but it definitely wasn’t when she set up that bet.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll admit it. I don’t understand the mysteries of Abigail.”

“Well, she definitely doesn’t either.”

Scylla barked out a laugh. “That’s for sure. I’ve got to say though, she’s become tolerable. Even borderline likable. Except for today, of course.”

“Why do you think that happened?”

“Well, I know she was a bitch _today_ because you upset her. But as far as getting better goes? I think this is the first time she’s actually gotten some distance from her mom. As far as I know, I think they’ve only been in contact once in the whole time we’ve been here.”

“Really?” Libba sounded… hopeful. Scylla watched as a series of emotions flashed across her face at that news. _She must know something about Bellweather._

She leaned forward in her seat, focusing on Libba’s face. “How _did_ you know her last name?”

“What? She told me.” Libba shifted uncomfortably.

“At that party, at the drink-off. You two barely knew each other and you called her ‘Bellweather.’ How did you know her last name?”

Libba just squirmed. _Abigail might have been right_ , Scylla thought with chagrin. Acting on instinct, Scylla decided to throw caution to the wind.

“What do you know about Commander Bellweather?”

Libba’s eyes snapped up at that. She looked like a deer in the headlights for a moment until one of the baristas came by and dropped off her coffee. She thanked him and then dropped her eyes to the drink.

“What do you know about Project Atum?” Libba finally asked.

“Project Adam?” Scylla asked in confusion. “What do _you_ know about Project Adam?”

Libba was back to analyzing Scylla’s features. She watched for a while before finally responding. “What do you say we take this conversation to-go?”

Scylla just swallowed and nodded.

“But first, I’m going to need to pee. That iced coffee went right through.”

Libba locked the door behind her after getting inside the bathroom. She pulled out her phone and entered Alder’s number.

“Come on, pick up, pick up, pick up, you old crone,” she murmured into the phone.

Alder answered on the fourth ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Otter,” Libba rushed out.

“Oh… Otter. Yes, that’s right. Eagle here. What’s going on?”

“I just got coffee with the Goat, like we talked about. I don’t know how, but she figured out that I know something about her, Churchtower, and Pawn, and the club they belong to.”

“Um, yes. Okay, I think I understand.”

“Okay, what is the point of learning codenames if you don’t even remember them?” Libba sighed with exasperation. “Whatever. The point is, Goat knows. What should I tell her?”

“Do you trust her?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Well, then don’t tell her anything yet. Just talk to her. Get to know her. If she knows that you already know about her club, she might open up. You can give her some indication of how much you know, but keep anything with strategic value hidden. That includes the fact that myself, Anacostia, and Porter are alive and well.”

“Eagle!” Libba hissed. “Codenames!”

“Oh, well. You get the point. Don’t tell her anything about how you know what you know. For now, it might be best to let her think that you’re just a disaffected former member of the… _club_.”

“And what if I do trust her after that?”

“Well, then it might be time to bring her over for dinner.”

Libba swallowed. “Alright. Thanks. I’ll go out and talk to her.”

“Goat is excellent grilled,” Alder attempted to joke.

“Wow. Just wow. I’m hanging up now.”

Libba stuffed her phone in her pocket and rushed over to the bathroom sink to splash cold water on her face. _Time to become a real spy._

When she came back out to the coffee shop, she saw Scylla hunched over her phone with her brow furrowed.

“Trouble in paradise?” she asked.

Scylla looked up at her with a scowl. “Your little stunt definitely didn’t do me any favors. Raelle’s not answering my texts.”

Libba shrugged. “Maybe she hasn’t seen them yet.”

“She always replies so quickly,” Scylla murmured, looking back down at her phone.

Libba sighed dramatically. “What _ever_. You guys will work it out. Now come on, let’s go for a walk.”

Moments later, they found themselves heading into the brisk Sunday afternoon air. Libba still clutched her iced coffee, taking the occasional sip.

“So, how do you know about Commander Bellweather?” Scylla demanded.

“How do you?” she shot back.

“I… I don’t know you. Why should I tell you anything?”

“Because I already know. Or, at least, I can guess. She’s your boss, isn’t she?”

Scylla glowered back at her. “Maybe.”

“So she’s definitely your boss.”

Scylla just scowled.

“Do you like your boss?” Libba continued.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I… I don’t trust her.”

“You don’t trust her?”

More scowling from Scylla.

“Why don’t you trust her?” Libba pressed.

“Do _you_ trust her?” Scylla retorted.

“No,” Libba responded without hesitation. Scylla looked forward, thoughtful. “Why don’t you trust her?”

“Because I think she may be responsible for the deaths of my friends. And that she had the audacity to pin their deaths on _me_.”

 _Well, that’s promising._ “Does Abigail trust her?”

“I think so. I’m pretty sure.”

 _Less promising._ “Are you loyal to her?”

Scylla gave her a hard look. “I’m loyal to the cause.”

“You’re loyal to the Spree?”

Scylla’s head snapped over. “Yes. But she is not the Spree. She’s one person.”

“And what if I told you that not all of the Spree consent to her leadership?”

“Well, I’d tell you that you’re looking at that one person. Everyone else who would stand up to her are either missing or dead.”

“What if they weren’t?”

This time, when Scylla looked at her, her face had a spark of hope. “They aren’t?”

Libba stopped walking to turn towards Scylla with a smile. “Alright, I guess I trust you. Hi, nice to meet you. My name’s Libba, and Alder’s my aunt,” Libba declared. She held out a hand for Scylla to shake. Though she looked like she was in shock, she shook it anyways.

“Is Alder alive? I thought for sure Bellweather had her killed,” Scylla asked, eyes wide.

“It’d take more than Petra to kill that old bat,” Libba laughed. “Come on. I think it’s time you said hi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooohhh! things are heating up. as always, I'd love to hear from y'all in comments and kudos. much love to y'all who keep commenting - especially @RayllaEndgame and @Saturn01. hope everyone's doing alright!


	9. talk about a bombshell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Porter clashes with Raelle, Scylla clashes with Libba. Scylla learns the depths of the Spree's struggles and Raelle grapples with some troubling information about Scylla. A chapter for bombshells, to say the least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all... I am so sorry about the indentations. I have no idea how to fix it; it looks fine in my Word document when I'm typing. anyway, I hope you can see past it. enjoy :)

Raelle frowned at her phone. No new messages from Scylla. After she’d hung up on her, she’d just sent two texts – _did you hang up on me?_ and _talk later x_. Raelle had waited a while to respond to those messages, but she eventually did with a question: _can I see you tonight?_ That had been a half hour or so ago.

Her stomach did an uncomfortable flip as she wondered what she might be doing right now. When they’d parted ways that morning, they’d talked about meeting up again later. That didn’t look like it’d be happening now. Hearing that girl on the phone – who, the more she thought about it, had sounded like Libba – call Scylla back to bed, right after that incident at the grocery store, no less, certainly hadn’t left her feeling comfortable. And the radio silence was not helping.

Was Scylla, her Scylla, hooking up with Libba right now? Raelle could imagine it; Libba was sort of hot, in a bad-girl way. Maybe now that Scylla knew she liked girls, she realized it wasn’t Raelle specifically that attracted her, but girls generally. Maybe she was exploring the other side of her sexuality with Libba right now. Or maybe Scylla’s issues ran deeper than she thought. Maybe their intimacy this morning, when Scylla _finally_ opened up about something, spooked her.

Or maybe Scylla was exploring _both_ sides of her sexuality right now. That guy from the store – the one she’d seen hugging Byron – had Scylla been fooling around with him, too?

_Maybe she’s done with me. Maybe I’m not enough for her._

She shook her head, trying to physically dislodge the thoughts from her mind. It didn’t work, though. Instead, they seemed to just spread and grow in her mind, spreading insidious tendrils like infection from a wound.

She looked down at her blank phone again. She didn’t want to be alone with these thoughts.

“Byron here. What’s new with you, Raelle?”

“Enjoying this fine Saturday afternoon,” she replied wryly. “What are you up to?”

“Just hanging out with the boys. Want to come over?”

“Sure, yeah. See you in 15?”

“Sounds good. Bring beer, if you have any.”

15 minutes later, Raelle strode into the house on Beltane Lane with a box of frozen pizza tucked under her arm.

“Hey. I didn’t have any beer. But I brought pizza.”

Byron greeted her with a broad smile and a hug. “Any gift is a gift to be cherished.” Raelle smiled and Byron took the pizza from her. “This is perfect, actually. I’ll get this started. You make yourself at home. I’m starving.”

Raelle walked over to the living room, sitting on one of the empty couches. “I thought you said you were hanging out with the boys?”

“I was. But then Gerit left to hang out with Tally and Augustin went to go hang out with Clive and Abigail.”

She smiled wistfully, recalling the debacle at the second Beltane party when Abigail pulled Augustin away from Libba to join her and Clive. “Are the three of them, like, a thing?”

Byron only shrugged. “They sure do spend a lot of time together these days.” He moved to pick up some video game controllers, offering one to Raelle. “Call of Duty? One on one?”

Raelle snatched the controller from him. “Oh, you’re so on.”

They played a few rounds. Raelle won the first match. Byron won the second, and Raelle won the third. The alarm on the pizza went off, interrupting the fourth game midway through.

Byron tossed his controller and popped up off the couch. “Damn, Collar. I gotta give it to you. You’re pretty good at this.”

“I’ll bet there’s some good competition out here. It is a code school, after all,” Raelle countered.

“Yeah, but still. Most girls I know just aren’t into this stuff.”

Raelle scoffed. “Yeah, well. I spent a lot of time with computers growing up.”

“Why?” Byron asked from the kitchen.

_Ma was gone and Pa wasn’t._ She decided to deflect instead. “What got _you_ into it? Most gay guys I know just aren’t into this stuff.”

This time, it was Byron’s turn to scoff. “Because I played straight for years. Most of my friends are still straight. I just grew up with it, I guess.”

“Yeah, weren’t you in a frat?”

Byron returned to the living room with the pizza sliced up and on a cutting board. He offered some to Raelle, which she gladly accepted. “Yes, I was. Back in Massachusetts. I only stayed for a year, though. All of that… well, it just wasn’t for me.”

“Didn’t love the brothers?”

Byron barked out a laugh. “No. I think I loved them a little _too_ much. I sort of had to untangle my repressed sexuality my freshman year. It really forced me to rethink most things about my life.”

“Well, speaking of brothers… This is going to sound weird. But this morning at the grocery store, I saw you hugging someone like you hadn’t seen him in a long time. I actually ran into him in the store earlier. Well, he ran into me. Made me drop most of my stuff. Seemed pretty angry. He told me that I’m ‘bad at picking girlfriends,’” Raelle put her fingers in the air around the mystery stranger’s words.

Byron nodded, his lips pursed. “I was meaning to talk to you about that. That’s Porter. He was actually one of my frat brothers. We became good friends. We especially bonded over heartbreak; me, from my first boyfriend, and him, from his ex-girlfriend of six years.”

Raelle’s stomach flipped. She thought she knew where this was going.

“An ex-girlfriend named Scylla?”

Byron gave a solemn nod.

“And there it goes.” Dejected, Raelle reached down to take slice of pizza. “So, what does Porter say about Scylla?”

“Um. Well, he always used to complain about her being manipulative and secretive. And just so you know, I didn’t know that Scylla was _this_ Scylla until just this morning when I saw Porter.”

Raelle nodded, chewing thoughtfully. She waited a long while before saying anything else. “I knew it was too good to be true.” She shook her head. “You know, I called her right after what happened this morning. And you know what one of the first things I heard was?”

Byron shook his head, eyes wide.

“There was another voice there – a girl she was with, I think. First, it said – ‘who’s that? Is that your girlfriend?’ But when I asked who it was, Scylla just said ‘nobody.’”

Byron’s brow furrowed and he shook his head.

“Right? And then, _right_ after that, she said, ‘come on, get back in bed,’” Raelle continued.

Byron’s brow furrowed further. “I don’t want to gaslight… But doesn’t that sort of sound like a stupid, immature trick someone might pull on a friend?”

“What friend?” Raelle scoffed. “And besides, if it was a friend, wouldn’t that be an easy thing to just come clean about? Instead, Scylla just said _again_ that it was nobody. And that she couldn’t talk. She’s never done anything like that before. It’s just weird. It doesn’t make sense. And especially with the grocery thing right before. I feel like she’s not telling my everything.”

Byron raised his hands defensively. “You know best. You’ve seen the most of her. That just sounds like exactly the kind of thing Libba would say.”

“It did sort of sound like Libba. But Libba and Scylla aren’t even friends,” Raelle protested.

“Even so.”

“Weren’t you _just_ saying that Porter complained about Scylla being manipulative and secretive?”

“Well, yeah. But that was coming from Porter at the peak of his heartbreak. From what I heard from him this morning, it sounds like he’s trying to find a way to make it work with Scylla anyways.”

“ _What?!?”_ Raelle exclaimed. “And you’re just telling me this now?”

“I was getting there.”

“Byron, Scylla _just_ realized that she likes girls. I’m really not sure that’s a permanent change right now.”

He tossed his head dismissively. “She might have just realized that she likes girls, but she _definitely_ likes you. Even a fool could see that. And besides, she broke up with Porter. He’s tried to get her back before. Why would he be any more successful now? _Especially_ now that she’s with you?”

She scowled and leaned back with a huff. “He has?”

“Yeah. I tried to talk him out of it, but he couldn’t be swayed. You know what he told me? ‘I’m going to marry her.’ I mean, what the hell? Those are the words of a man unhinged. I just hope he gets over it before things get any worse.”

“Hm.”

“Look, I’m not saying you shouldn’t be suspicious at all. It’s weird that she hasn’t said anything, and I’m sure if I’d heard the call that you did, I’d be upset too. But I am saying you shouldn’t jump to any conclusions before you talk to her about it. That girl’s got it bad for you, and I can tell you feel the same. Don’t let doubt ruin something like that.”

Byron smiled at her. Raelle returned it, but it felt like it was more for his benefit.

She looked away and ripped off a piece of her pizza slice. _So the girl that I like, and that likes me, is manipulative and secretive. What does it matter that we like each other if she lies to me and manipulates me?_ She recalled the look on the guy – Porter – when they met at the grocery store. His face, twisted with barely-constrained rage. Raelle could understand how Scylla could get him all twisted up; she was already feeling it now. Her stomach clenched with a new kind of worry as she considered just how badly Scylla could hurt her. Was what she was feeling right now just a taste of what was to come?

She must have looked disgruntled because Byron laughed at her. “Look, if you care about her, fight for her. Don’t just let her go. That’s all I’ve got to say.”

She didn’t want to think about it anymore. She wiped her hands on her jeans and picked up the Xbox controller. “Alright. Now, back to what’s really important,” she smiled.

“Yes, of course. It’s time to even the score.”

“As if.”

The pair returned to their game with a renewed energy. Raelle poured herself into it, channeling her rage and worry into dexterous and calculated maneuvers. It paid off, too – she was beating Byron once again. He noticed, and gave her a playful shove to knock her off her game. She laughed and returned the gesture, finishing with a headshot to top it off. Byron cursed and threw the controller down. Raelle just laughed again.

Scylla or no Scylla, she was glad to know that she had other ways to have fun out here.

“This is pretty close to our apartment,” Scylla commented. She had her hands shoved in her pockets and her shoulders tucked up around her neck. Partly because a cool breeze was making her shiver, but also partly from her nerves. She felt a bit like she was striding across a line that couldn’t be uncrossed – something important. With _Libba_ , of all people. It wouldn’t be her first irreversible line-crossing. Crossing the line itself wasn’t usually all that bad; in her experience, it was what followed that brought the pain, the regret.

“It is very walkable,” Libba confirmed.

Libba paused for a moment in front of a small, decrepit house. Its chipped white exterior looked dirty and unassuming, and its slightly saggy roof made it look vaguely dangerous. _Perfect for the Spree_ , Scylla thought wryly. She cast a nervous glance towards Libba, who just looked grim. They closed the distance between themselves and the unkempt porch. Libba tapped out an unfamiliar pattern on the door. _Different from the field unit knock_ , Scylla noted. Footsteps behind the door followed the knock.

At the sound, Libba’s head shot towards Scylla. There was an apologetic look in her eye.

“ _Shit_. I totally forgot to tell you. Porter’s here.”

“ _Porter’s here?_ ” she hissed back.

Libba opened her mouth to respond, but the door swang open before she could.

It was Porter’s face who greeted them. His mouth fell open at the sight of the two of them together. His eyes settled on Scylla with an intensity that made her want to crawl out of her skin. Instead of meeting that gaze, she looked past him at the familiar outline of an approaching figure.

“Anacostia!” she exclaimed in excitement. She registered contortion on Porter’s face from the edge of her vision but elected to ignore it.

“Scylla.” Anacostia’s voice was warm.

Until that moment, Scylla hadn’t realized just how much she’d missed Anacostia’s surprising warmth in her life. Even when she’d been at her most broken, at her angriest, Anacostia had always acted like she saw something good.

“Come on, move it,” Anacostia muttered to Porter. She pulled him out of the doorframe and opened the door fully to usher the two girls inside. She quickly closed the door behind them.

As soon as she turned around, Scylla pulled her in for a hug. “You’re alive!” she gasped.

“It’d take more than that to kill me,” Anacostia consoled, bringing a protective hand to the back of her head. Scylla hugged her tighter. Emotion threatened to close her throat and cloud her eyes, but she pushed it down. She didn’t want to cry in front of Porter. Even without looking at him, she could feel his presence like a dark cloud hanging over them all. A dark cloud that sucked in light and warmth and occasionally delivered an ominous thunderclap or stinging blow of lightning. She could say with certainty that his presence was one thing she _hadn’t_ missed.

When she pulled back from the hug, both Libba and Porter were looking at them. Libba looked quizzical, but Porter looked… well. She’d seen it before, many times – it was the look he wore when he got jealous. The look he wore when she dared give someone else attention when he was around. It might not be noticeable to everyone, but over the years she’d grown all too familiar with that expression. And with everything that usually followed its appearance. She looked away and tried to put him out of her mind. She didn’t owe him anything – especially now that it turned out she hadn’t been indirectly responsible for his death.

“Libba told me Alder’s still around and kicking,” Scylla continued, scanning the house’s meager interior for any sign of her Commander.

“Wait, I didn’t actually _say_ that. She just guessed,” Libba protested, hands in the air. Scylla glanced over in time to see the tail end of the admonishing expression from Anacostia that prompted the outburst.

“You didn’t trust me,” Scylla thought out loud. “You didn’t tell me you were still alive.” She’d been overjoyed to see that Anacostia was alive, that one of the few good people in her life hadn’t truly disappeared from this world forever. But she’d grieved for her. For Alder. The nights she’d laid awake, wracked with guilt for the deaths of her mentors and friends, couldn’t be taken back by the revelation they’d survived. So much of that pain could have been avoided if they’d told her the truth. If they’d trusted her.

“You let me believe that you _died_!” Scylla pushed Anacostia away.

“We didn’t know what happened back there. All we knew was that we needed to regroup and find out what happened so we could know how to respond. That just ended up taking much longer than we anticipated.”

Anacostia’s explanation was cut short by the sound of the backdoor.

“Scylla. Libba.” Alder’s clear voice cut through the room. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her. “My apologies for the delay. I was tending the garden. I didn’t hear you enter.”

A part of Scylla relaxed at the sight of Alder, alive and in the flesh. Her commanding presence, her strange, powerful, charisma, had once been very calming. Alder was so sure of the Spree’s moral obligations; it had been nice to feel like she knew that what she was doing was right. During her darkest times, in the days before the incident at the oil distribution center ever happened, that moral clarity had kept Scylla on her feet. Had kept her with a purpose in mind. Still, she couldn’t forget her anger at being kept in the dark.

“Why did you let me think you were dead? You can trust me. I’ve given my life to the Spree!” Scylla took a step towards Alder. Her blood boiled with emotion and her heart thudded in her chest.

“Everyone has.” Alder paused to straighten up and clasp her hands behind her back before continuing. “After what happened, we didn’t know who to trust. We simply had to know more. Now that we do, it’s high time that we start to act.” She strode toward the group as she spoke, closing the distance with her long, sure steps. When she reached them, she took Scylla’s hands in her own and looked deeply into her eyes. As always, it felt like Alder’s gaze cut straight through to her soul. “I am sorry for what happened to you. But we now know that the blame is not yours. It’s Petra Bellweather’s.”

Looking up at Alder, her hands in hers, Scylla felt like a child. Her anger, so powerful just seconds ago, quieted at the touch. “You’re sure?” she asked.

Alder gave her a sad smile and put a gentle hand on her cheek. “Yes, my child. She set you up.” She released Scylla to turn towards the larger group. “And she will pay for what she has done. But first, we must stop her before she does any more damage.”

Scylla looked around at the group’s grim expressions. She got the feeling that her earlier thought – about crossing a line that couldn’t be uncrossed – may have turned out to be prophetic. She was too overwhelmed right now to think about all the implications this change would have for her, but she had a feeling that there were few scenarios with rosy outcomes.

Alder sighed purposefully. “Whiskey, anyone? We have much to catch up on.”

In a few minutes the five of them were seated around a small kitchen table with a drink in front of them. Scylla held her glass with both hands. Some light from the window was streaming over her shoulder and alighting the amber liquid rather pleasantly. She swirled it around, watching the light play on its surface. She took a small sip, enjoying the sensation of heat that traveled down her throat and into her chest. Liquid courage, her dad used to call it. After a deep breath to steady herself, she broke the silence.

“You said she framed me?” she began.

Anacostia nodded. “Yes, although we don’t exactly know how she did it yet. But, given what we know now about Bellweather, we’re confident that the situation was a setup. As you know, Porter disappeared days before the mission. She told you and the rest that he’d left, but really, she tried to have him killed. Thanks to Libba, we had a heads-up and were able to avert it. Still, we had to make him disappear to avoid detection. Needless to say, though, that act confirmed our suspicions about Bellweather. It’s just unfortunate that we weren’t able to stop what happened next.”

The table fell silent. Everyone took a sip.

“We don’t know exactly why Bellweather chose to target Porter—”

“Probably didn’t trust him. Probably thought he’d give up the Spree, or get cold feet,” Scylla interrupted. She kept her eyes on Anacostia to avoid the indignant look she was sure Porter was giving her.

“But anyways, it opened a position for the strike unit. Bellweather overstepped her authority to put her daughter on the team with you. An odd choice made stranger by your obvious distaste for each other and that Abigail isn’t in the field unit. But, unfortunately, that’s all we know. Except for the raid the next morning. Maybe you can shed some light on what happened for us.”

Scylla looked around at them – they were all looking on at her with interest.

“You guys really don’t know anything else about what happened?”

They just shook their heads. With a sigh, she continued. “Everything was going fine – we’d laid charges all over the place. It’d been deserted when we got there, but as we were leaving, a team of more than a dozen workers came in. Abigail wanted to detonate the charges right away, in case they found them. But I… I couldn’t. Abigail ended up shouting, and a guard heard us. He nearly got me, but Abigail got him off me and we got away. He got the detonator though, and that must have helped them find the charges. We took off out of there and laid low for a day or two, like we planned. But when we came back to the field unit, all we found was rubble.”

The table fell silent again. Scylla finished off her whiskey and held her glass out to Alder, quietly asking for more. When she filled it up – a rather hefty pour this time – she brought it to her lips for another swallow. The burn was pleasant. It was nice to focus on something else, even if just for a moment. Her shoulders, tensed with stress, relaxed ever so slightly as the familiar buzz reached her head.

After a hefty sigh, she dove back into her recollection of one of the worst times of her life. She reached around for any additional details that might be helpful but found none. What she did find was the familiar guilt and regret. Lips loosened by the whiskey, she couldn’t help herself. “If I’d just let her blow the damn charges, none of this would have happened. My friends would still be alive. What the fuck is the point of nonviolence if the enemy is ruthless?”

“I’m not sure setting off the charges would have made any difference,” Anacostia consoled. “From what we’ve learned about Bellweather, my bet is that this was a tightly-planned setup that accounted for every contingency. I don’t think there was anything you could have done that would have kept the field unit from getting destroyed.”

Scylla squinted at Anacostia. “How do you mean?”

“I mean, she might have sent you and Abigail in there together with the expectation that you would be nearly caught. She might have called in a tip to get the workers to show up. She might have done something to disable the charges. She might have done something online to make the charges you used more traceable for officials. She might have called in an anonymous tip to law enforcement, even if the charges had gone off. I can bet you she had a plan for everything. And, no matter what happened, she’d have you or Porter as a scapegoat and Abigail as her corroborating witness with a big mouth.”

“So you’re saying Bellweather used Abigail?” Libba piped up.

“Or maybe she’s just mad she didn’t get to blow up those guys,” Porter spat. Scylla thought back with a pang to the Porter she used to know, years ago. That Porter had been thoughtful and kind. This new Porter was hateful and bitter. She hated that she didn’t need to wonder what changed him because she already knew for herself.

“Abigail was so _mad_ at me about what happened. I don’t think she could have faked that. If Bellweather really did plan for this to go sideways all along, I don’t think Abigail knew that.”

Anacostia laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Whatever the case, Scylla, you did the right thing. Violence is not our way.”

“Right then. Anacostia, would you mind sharing with Scylla what you and Porter learned on your mission?” Alder prompted.

“Porter and I went to the east coast to find out everything we could about Petra Bellweather. At first, she seemed to check out. Her colleagues affirmed what we already knew; that she’s efficient, intelligent, charismatic. That she rose quickly through the ranks of military intelligence and then the NSA. But the more we spoke with them, the more we uncovered suspicions about her. For example, sometimes insurrectionist cells she’d been tasked with monitoring and capturing would seemingly escape with no plausible explanation. She was too good to let them go, but somehow these simple groups would come up with some ingenious means of escaping capture. And even worse, she’d give up once it happened. Given what we know about her personality, that leads us to believe that she intentionally let them go in exchange for something. It’s impossible to know what – it could be anything. A future favor, information, strategic violence. As far as a timeline goes, her rise through the ranks became meteoric after that. Many of her colleagues suspected she may have turned to illegitimate means to securing herself those promotions. And when I say illegitimate, I mean blackmail and assassination.

“She was deputy director of the NSA when she abandoned her post to join the Spree. We can’t know for sure, but it sounded from our conversations with her colleagues that her superiors might have found out about some of what she did. But, before they could arrest her, she found out the jig was up. She gathered the people she’d collected over the years and left the NSA to join the Spree. She also created a media shitstorm big enough to escape real media attention. From our conversations, it sounded like she didn’t release all of the information she had; she may have held onto some of it as collateral.”

“And now she has a bioweapon.” Porter interjected.

Scylla paused to take a deep swig of whiskey.

Libba leaned forward, her hands clasped together on the table in front of her. “I’ve been monitoring her computer traffic these last four months. Recently, she’s been doing a lot of coordinating around something she’s been calling ‘Project Atum.’ And from everything else we know about her, it sounds like she’s going to release a bioweapon she got from one of her pet terrorist groups. We don’t know exactly what she’s got planned after that, but she’s been coordinating with extremist groups across the country. We _think_ she’s planning on seizing control of the country in the post-bioweapon chaos.”

Scylla barked out a laugh. “I knew I didn’t like her.”

“She tried to kill me!” Porter cried indignantly.

“I’m glad she didn’t.”

Scylla winced at the small, hopeful smile her admission brought to Porter’s face. Still, she couldn’t deny it was a relief to not have his death on her hands. She didn’t want to marry him, but that didn’t she didn’t care about him at all. He was still an old friend. Her oldest friend, actually.

“Alright, so now what?” she asked, hoping to change the subject.

“That’s what we’ve been discussing. Right now, it seems like our best option is to try to apprehend the bioweapon when Bellweather tries to transport it. From there, we should try to seize her line of communication and get the message out to the loyal remnants of the Spree about who she is and what she’s done. Once the Spree are safe, we can leave an anonymous tip with law enforcement that will lead to the capture of her and the loyalists she brought with her.”

Scylla sat in silence, considering the plan. She felt the weight of everyone’s eyes on her, measuring her reaction. Perhaps they hoped she had something clever to add. Her mind raced, considering the possibilities. A part of her, an undeniably large part of her, wondered whether stopping the bioweapon was really the right move. After all, wasn’t the Spree devoted to working towards a revolution? And didn’t revolutions require a disruption of the status quo? What could be more disruptive than a bioweapon? Existing power structures at all levels could be thrown into chaos; public trust in the government could erode, people could finally see the precarity of their situation and actually take action to fix it. A bioweapon could jolt the silent majority of the American public into action. She bit her lip.

“Something on your mind?” Anacostia finally asked.

“Well, are we really sure that getting rid of the bioweapon is the right call? I mean, Bellweather obviously shouldn’t be in charge of it. But think about what it could do. Hasn’t the goal of the Spree always been to incite a political revolution that will save us from ourselves? That will lead to real peace, real justice? From what I’ve been seeing, people have only been getting more set in their ways. And the institutions we need to support us have been turning their backs on us. Something like this could change all of that. It could actually, _finally_ , give us a fighting chance of doing what we always talk about!”

Porter looked at her like she’d grown a third eye. “Are you out of your _mind_? _Millions_ of people could die!”

“Millions of people are _already_ dying and millions more _will_ die if we do nothing!” Scylla was surprised to hear Libba speaking out to defend her. Anacostia and Alder seemed to share her surprise.

“The Spree are nonviolent.” Anacostia repeated the mantra like it was a threat.

Libba rolled her eyes. “Okay, I know that when the Spree was founded, that made sense. But the situation has gotten so much worse since then! Seriously, the actions of the next ten years will determine the outcome of the _rest of our lives_. I’ve been a climate activist my whole life, and you know what I’ve seen achieved?” She looked around the room, letting the question settle on the disgruntled faces of the room’s elders. “FUCKING NOTHING. We’ve gotten some tiny wins here and there, but even that was in Portland, for Christ’s sake! Portland doesn’t determine the fate of the world. America will. Lord knows the world would have already done something about it if our government hadn’t spent the last decades doing everything it could to prevent it! Time is running out, and our opposition is only getting stronger! If we wait much longer, we may never have another opportunity. We’ll just be doomed to lives as corporate underlings in a barren, shitty world.”

Tirade finished, Libba leaned back with a huff. Scylla gave her a grim look of appreciation.

Dead silence hung over the table for almost a minute before Alder finally broke the silence.

“When we to look to the horizon, what we see says more about us than the future. None of us can truly predict what is to come. So, rather than trying to act on your predictions of a nebulous future, it is wiser to simply operate on principles. Nonviolence is one of those principles. And it’s not just for our own consciences; if we really do want to inspire change, nonviolence must guide our actions. Violence is divisive. Peaceful opposition, on the other hand, inspires sympathy. It requires much more bravery and fortitude, and that is precisely why it is so effective.”

“Without the support of the majority of the people though, nonviolent opposition is just so easy to dismiss! These days, if we wanted the majority of the people, we’d need to have a better handle on social media. But our opposition is dominating us at that – they have armies of bots and paid trolls and misinformation that spreads like wildfire. It’s _working._ How can we fight that?”

Libba looked around the table with wild eyes. “I’m serious! How can we fight that? They are _owning_ us on propaganda. And once people start believing it, they don’t stop. We can march around with signs all we want, but if they accept truths that are fundamentally contradictory to the reality that we are protesting, how the hell are we ever going to be able to reach them? And it’s not just that they’ve been doing it recently. They’ve been doing it for _years_ at this point. They’ve been playing a long game.”

“You need not see the path to victory for it to exist,” Alder admonished. She sighed. “I know the situation is daunting. But that just gives us all the more reason to keep fighting. And, even if the future is as bleak as you suspect, Libba, how would releasing a bioweapon change that? It is true that there are malevolent forces out there with a long history of manipulating our government and other systems. But unleashing the chaos that a bioweapon would engender wouldn’t just give _us_ an opening for change. That same chaos, that same opportunity, would be presented to _everyone_ who wants to see radical change. And I am sure that many of them would have aims exactly opposite of ours.”

“Yes, I agree with Alder,” Anacostia added with a nod in her Commander’s direction. “Bellweather has been reaching out to far-right militia groups for a reason. If they are not with her, you can bet your ass that they’d be against her. So, if we were to release a bioweapon, we would have to be ready to either work with them or fight against them. And let’s not forget that many of them, maybe even most of them, are white supremacists.” Her eyes hardened as she looked around the table. “They would have me shot in the street. They said that _to my_ _face_ when Porter and I went to go talk to some of them.”

“Let’s fight them, then. They’re only getting stronger by the day!” Libba pleaded. “This is what I’m talking about. The propaganda machines make more every day. We have the chance to disrupt that process!”

“And what makes you think that we’d _win_?!?” Anacostia shouted back. “Many of them have been organizing in preparation of something just like this for _years_. We have networks around the country, but not like this. We’re outgunned, plain and simple.”

“Not to mention that by releasing this bioweapon, you’d become public enemy number one,” Porter added. “Seriously. If there was any chance that people would be with you, it would evaporate as soon as you did this. They’d just hate you. Hell, they’d probably burn you at the stake for what you did.”

Libba and Scylla both went silent. Anacostia’s face was animated; Porter was breathing heavily. He kept staring at Scylla, his eyes wide.

“Well. While this has been a… lively discussion, it is something that we should probably forget about for now. If, and when, we capture the bioweapon, it is something we can discuss at greater length. For now, though, there are other topics we must cover. Namely, Scylla, why you are here.”

Once again, the whole table focused in on her. She shifted nervously in her seat.

“I thought to get caught up.”

“Yes. But why are you in Salem?”

“Right. Well, it doesn’t actually make that much sense. Abigail, Tally, and I were sent here on a recruiting mission.”

Alder raised her eyebrows. “That’s what we’d guessed, but still, it doesn’t quite make sense. Why not send someone from recruitment? And why not come with the intention of setting up a long-term recruitment station? Are you here to secure a long-term position?”

“No. We were sent here for one hacker in particular,” Scylla answered without thinking. As soon as she realized what she’d said, though, she wished she hadn’t. _Shit_.

“One hacker in particular? Why, and who?” Anacostia leaned forward with interest.

Scylla shook her head in resignation. “Someone that Bellweather had apparently found out about during her time with the NSA. Someone who’d worked with journalists to expose corruption all over the place. She’s pretty good at digging up dirt, I guess.”

“She?” Porter asked.

_Shit._

“Wait, you didn’t say you were sent here for a specific person,” Libba added.

_Double shit._

“Well, did you find her?” Alder asked expectantly. “Even if you aren’t in recruitment, I’d expect your talents would serve you well for it. Better than Abigail, at least.”

Scylla opened her mouth to respond, but she didn’t quite know what to say. She didn’t want to expose Raelle. Should she just describe who she’d been sent to find and say that she hadn’t yet?

“It’s Raelle, isn’t it?”

Scylla’s head snapped over to Libba.

“So it _is._ ” Libba gloated.

Scylla opened her mouth to refute her, but Porter interrupted before she could.

“Your girlfriend is your mark? Oh, that makes so much sense,” he laughed. He clasped his hands behind his head and laughed again – a cold, cruel laugh. “Really classic for you.”

“Have you recruited her?” Anacostia asked.

Seeing that she’d already failed in her attempt to protect Raelle, Scylla just released a dejected sigh. “No. I didn’t know you were alive, and I didn’t want to recruit her into Bellweather’s Spree.”

“I understand. Still, her talents may be of some use. It would be helpful if you could bring her to us. She might help us learn more about Bellweather,” Alder said.

“Hey!” Libba and Porter protested simultaneously.

“What? You obviously have different talents. It sounds like they would be complementary,” Alder defended herself. “No need to get defensive. We need all the help we can get if we really want to stop this plot of Bellweather’s.”

“Raelle’s your mark,” Porter repeated, as though to himself.

“Porter, focus,” Anacostia scolded. “Do you think she’d be willing to help us?”

“I…um. I can see.” Raelle’s face flashed through her mind. Scylla knew she’d have to talk to her about what happened this afternoon. And after everything she’d learned this evening… She had two options.

She could bring Raelle into this internal Spree struggle with potentially deadly consequences, or she could continue to protect her. Her breath tightened at the thought of Raelle getting hurt because of her involvement with Scylla. Lifetime imprisonment and death at the hands of assassins would become legitimate possibilities for her if she brought her into this mess.

On the other hand, she could keep lying to her. Could prolong their period of innocence a little longer. Raelle knew that Scylla was a part of the Spree, but so far that was all she knew. Scylla would rather leave it at that. She decided on the spot to leave Raelle out of all of this. She’d endangered her enough.

Alder, unaware of Scylla’s thoughts, continued shamelessly. “Alright then. Thank you, Scylla. I’m sure Raelle will be very helpful. That said, though, I’m sure this is a lot of information to take in. And this has been a lot of professional talk. Perhaps now would be a good time for us to drop the personal facades and simply spend some time with each other. I’m sure Anacostia and Porter would appreciate that luxury, as well.”

The whole group nodded at the recommendation. Alder was the first to stand up and move to the couch; everyone else followed at their own pace. Scylla moved next, marching after Alder to take a seat on the steps outside the porch. She needed the time to think.

Of course, just seconds after she took a breath to steady herself, the door opened behind her as someone else joined her on the porch. _Porter._

Scylla braced herself and turned around. To her surprise though, it was Libba who’d stepped out with her.

“Oh. Sorry, I can go—” Libba apologized.

“No, it’s okay. It’s suffocating in there,” Scylla reassured.

Without another word, Libba took a seat next to her on the steps. The company was surprisingly comforting.

“So, how are you doing?” Libba asked after a few seconds of laden silence.

“Regarding what?” Scylla laughed.

“Well, the truth.”

“Which one?”

Libba shifted. “How about that it’s not your fault about the field unit? I mean, talk about a bombshell,” she attempted to joke. Scylla didn’t laugh.

“Honestly, I haven’t had time to process it yet. The guilt’s been eating at me. I’m not sure it’s the kind of guilt that can just go away. It’s been months, after all. It’s like an old friend by now.”

Libba hummed.

“And what about you, learning that Abigail didn’t know about it? You seemed pretty interested in that.”

“Well, it is nice to know. And maybe I was a little harsh on her earlier.”

“Are you into her?”

Libba smiled sadly. “I don’t know. Maybe. It’s complicated.”

“Tell me about it,” Scylla sighed.

“So Raelle’s your mark, huh?”

“Thanks for outing me in front of Porter, by the way. Another thing I have to worry about.”

“Wait, you’re not going to tell her?”

“Not that it’s any of your business—”

“Excuse me, yes it is my business. Right now, you are looking at the Spree. We need all the help we can get. And if she’s good enough to have a special recruitment mission devoted to her, she needs to be on _our_ team.”

“Why are you here, Libba?” Scylla flipped the conversation. “You weren’t in the Spree. And this isn’t the Spree – this is a warring faction. What are you doing here?” The frustration of the night sharpened her words.

“Same reason as anyone in the Spree. Love for the world and distrust of the systems that govern it.”

“You’re telling me love is why you picked up your life to live in a dilapidated old house and pretend to go to code school?”

Libba clapped her hands on her knees. “You know what? I’m going to go refill my cup.”

She walked away, leaving Scylla alone on the porch with her conflict and confusion.

_Where the hell do I go from here?_

“Alright, my dears. It’s time that these old bones go lay themselves to rest.” Alder stood up stiffly from her position on the couch. The five of them had talked for a long while, updating each other on the last four months.

“Dying already?” Libba joked.

Alder smirked. “Not yet.” Her face grew serious as she looked towards Scylla. “I am so glad to have you back with us. Again, I’m sorry that we couldn’t tell you the truth. We had to be sure. Bellweather is a formidable and deadly opponent. We could not afford to take any risks. But now, thanks to the efforts of Anacostia and Porter, we can welcome you and Raelle into our ranks and do what we must to stop Bellweather from doing any more damage.”

Scylla smiled weakly. She didn’t like how easily everyone had decided to rope Raelle into this fight. She’d tried to avoid talking about her as much as she could, but they seemed dead-set.

“And I think that’s my cue. Scylla, it’s been good to see you. And I know that this goes without saying, but you should keep everything you’ve learned tonight to yourself. Except with Raelle. She should know.” Anacostia stood to follow Alder.

Scylla’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. “Yeah, I’d better be walking home myself.”

Her mind on Raelle, she checked her phone to see if there were any new messages. Instead, the screen was dark. It must have died at some point during the conversation tonight. It made sense; she’d stayed the night at Raelle’s and hadn’t charged it then.

“I’ll walk you home,” Porter added. His voice was free of the malice that had characterized it for most of the night. It sounded more like the old, sweet Porter Scylla had once known and loved. A different Scylla, in a different lifetime.

“No, it’s really okay. It’s only fifteen minutes away and I know the route,” she protested.

“Come on, today was your first time walking it. I know it well. And, your phone’s dead. So if something were to happen, you’d be on your own out there.”

 _He knows it well?_ “No, I –”

“Please, Scyll. Just let me do this. Come on. For old times’ sake.”

He did have a point – her phone was dead and this afternoon was the first time she’d walked to the house. And she hadn’t even walked directly from her apartment to here. If she’d had her phone and access to maps, maybe she’d turn him down. But his offer was actually helpful. Even if it did pretty much guarantee a prolonged, awkward conversation with an ex that just wouldn’t quit.

Instead of fighting him on it anymore, Scylla just sighed and nodded her head. He smiled at the gesture.

x

“So, what are Tally and Abigail like? I knew Abigail very briefly, but from how you described her tonight it sounds like she’s changed. And Tally is totally new to me.”

Scylla had been pleasantly surprised to find that Porter hadn’t brought up their history at all. Instead, they’d just talked more about what they’d been up to the last few months. Though, by her reckoning, they were only about halfway back to her apartment.

“Well, Tally is like an athletic little ball of sunshine. So excited, and hopeful. She really is with the Spree for the justice of it, I think. I think if she knew what we talked about tonight, she would gladly take our side.”

“Maybe, but what if she told Abigail?”

“Feels strange to be standing up for Abigail so much, but I really think there’s a chance we could win her over. It’s not a chance I’d like to take, because she’d almost definitely confront her mom first. But I think her mom really convinced her that what they’re doing is about justice and that’s what she’s been clinging to through all this.”

“So, is she nice now?”

Scylla laughed. “I don’t know if I’d say that. But she’s definitely different. A little less haughty, a little more of a person.”

“You’ve changed.”

“So have you,” she shot back.

“Yeah. But there’s no changing the past.”

Scylla sighed. “Porter, we’ve been over this. You’re right – there is no changing the past. There’s just the present.”

“Yeah, and the present is a gift. At least that’s why my dad always says. I’m not asking to change the past. I just don’t want to leave it behind in the dust is all.”

“We’re talking right now, Porter. You joined the Spree. Clearly, you’re not leaving me be. What more do you want?” Scylla snapped.

“You know what I want.”

Scylla picked up her pace and said nothing.

“What, so you’re not even going to talk to me?”

“We were talking. But what’s the point of talking if nobody’s listening? We’re not getting back together, Porter. Period. End of story.”

“Why, because you fell for your mark?”

Scylla stopped to round on him. “You know what? Maybe I did. Either way, it’s none of your business. We aren’t friends, and we definitely aren’t together. Leave it be. Leave _me_ be.” She didn’t wait for him to respond before she continued walking.

“We aren’t friends?” he asked from behind her.

“Friends don’t stalk friends. Or ignore what their friends want to keep trying to get what they want for themselves.”

“What do you mean stalk –”

“How did you know the walking route to my apartment? Or about Raelle?”

“Okay, Libba told me about Raelle. And she showed me the apartment, too.”

“Whatever. We can’t be friends if you keep trying to bring this up every time we hang out. And the fact that you seem to try to guilt me into it each time definitely isn’t friendly, either. It’s hostile. It’s… it’s emotional warfare. And I am not okay with that.”

Porter stopped talking after that. In fact, they made it the rest of the way to Scylla’s apartment without him saying anything. He trailed a few paces behind her most of the way, which she was grateful for.

As they approached her apartment, though, he caught up to her. He walked her all the way to the outdoor staircase. She tensed up, ready for some kind of altercation, but kept walking wordlessly. Just as she expected, her took hold of her hand to stop her at the foot of the stairs. She moved to wrench her hand away, but he released his loose grip as soon as he had her attention. He took a deep breath and looked down.

“Look, Scyll. I’m sorry. I’ve gone a little crazy over you. I mean, you know I was crazy about you before. And then, ever since I joined the Spree, everything’s just gotten crazier. It’s been hard, but thinking about seeing you again has been what’s gotten me through it. But it sounds like you don’t want to be with me.”

He paused to look up at Scylla. Seemingly encouraged by what he saw, he continued.

“I have to be okay with that. I think I can see that now. And I know you don’t want to be with me like we used to be, but I hope that you can still be with me at least as a friend. You’re the only person in the world who really knows me. Even if we can’t be together, I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose you.”

Scylla could feel her face softening. “Porter…” On some level, she understood what he was saying. Porter was probably the only person in the world who knew who she’d been when she’d grown up and who still knew her now. It would be nice to be able to talk with him about things. If he was serious about being her friend, that was. She hoped this wasn’t just another veiled ploy to get her back.

“You don’t have to make a decision right now. But I hope you’ll think about it.”

“Okay.”

“Can I give you a hug?”

Scylla pursed her lips but nodded and pulled him in for a brief hug. When they pulled back, she gave him a nod and made her way up the stairs.

 _What a day_.

Raelle looked down at her phone. Her call to Scylla had gone straight to voicemail. Not for the first time today, worry pricked at her gut. Her mind kept hurtling down worst-case scenarios and she kept having to pull herself back each time. Scylla’s phone probably had a low battery because she’d spent the night at Raelle’s. But if she’d gone back home, she would have plugged it back in. Right?

She donned her jacket and went outside for a walk. She still wasn’t quite used to living in a city like this, but she’d come to enjoy night walks along the streets. Salem was a rainy place, and the pavement usually glistened from a recent rain. She liked the way the streetlights reflected against the wet streets, giving everything a sort of dim-but-cheery glow. She liked the way the humid cold soaked through her jacket and made her need to walk faster to stay warm. And she liked that even though the city was sleepy at night, it was far from dormant. It was always a quiet joy to see people and wonder what they were up to, where they were going. It was a good way to distract herself.

She didn’t particularly mean to start walking towards Scylla’s apartment. But once she realized the course she’d set, she thought it a good idea. It would give her a good, long walk and the chance to see Scylla. If not Scylla, maybe Tally or Abigail. If something was going on with Scylla, they’d be likely to know.

She thought back to the conversation they’d had just this morning. It felt like so much longer than one day had passed since Scylla admitted to being a radical environmentalist and Raelle came clean about her past with hacking. _How did things go so south so fast?_ she wondered. Scylla knew things about Raelle now – things that could get her in trouble. Things that could get her hurt. But then again, Raelle knew things about Scylla now too. Maybe it was time she really look into the Spree. She didn’t have much to go on, besides the name. And Bellweather – Commander Bellweather. Maybe she could find something there.

She was deep in thought considering the best ways to learn more about the Spree when she realized she was standing just across the street from Scylla’s apartment. She stopped for a moment, wondering whether she was being overtly clingy stopping by like this. After all, she’d seen Scylla just this morning.

 _What the hell, I’m here anyways_.

When she knocked on the door, she was disappointed to see that it was Abigail that answered.

“Raelle.” She sounded surprised.

“Um, hi. Is Scylla here? We were supposed to meet up tonight.”

“No, she left to get coffee with Libba this afternoon. She hasn’t come back yet.”

 _So it was Libba, after all_. “Oh. Okay. Well, I was just in the neighborhood, thought I’d say hi. Have a good night.”

She turned around and headed back down the stairs without waiting for an answer from Abigail. Was she being crazy? Maybe Scylla and Libba had just become fast friends. Maybe Byron had been right – maybe Libba had played an insensitive joke with her comment on the phone. But then again, what kind of meetup for coffee goes until this late at night? Raelle checked her phone – it was 9 pm. Maybe what happened last night was too much for Scylla. Raelle had felt it – something seemed off with Scylla when she’d told her about her mom and her hacking. Maybe she’d gone to coffee with Libba and realized that she liked her no-attachments style. She almost didn’t want to talk to Scylla to find out the truth. Still, she had to know.

Across the street from the apartment now, Raelle stopped to pull out her phone. Maybe Scylla’s phone was dead, but she could still get a text message. As she did, though, she saw people approaching the staircase she herself had just walked down moments ago. Two people. One was tall and moved like a guy, and the other was much shorter. _Scylla_. They turned into the light then, and Raelle’s suspicions were confirmed. Scylla was there, with Porter. They looked like they were deep in conversation. Raelle’s stomach flipped as she watched them close the distance between each other. Whether it was for a hug or a kiss, she couldn’t exactly tell. She kept watching just long enough to watch Scylla head up the stairs and Porter walk away.

Raelle turned on her heel and began the walk home. Her heart clenched uncomfortably in her chest.

Had she made a mistake in trusting Scylla? Had she been lied to?

She just kept walking.

Abigail sat in the living room of the apartment, her laptop open in front of her. She was working on her project with Libba to distract herself from the gnawing worry that their interaction earlier had left behind. Scylla still hadn’t come back yet and wasn’t answering any of her texts. She was just hoping that she’d return with the message that Libba didn’t know anything, that something else in her life had made her lash out. Maybe she just found out her parents were liars. Maybe that could explain it.

Her focus was broken by the door opening and Scylla marching inside.

“That took a while,” Abigail said by way of greeting.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Scylla sassed back.

Abigail folded her laptop and stood up to approach Scylla, who was bent over in the process of taking her shoes off. She waited until she was done to speak again. “So?”

“Mind giving me a moment? It’s been kind of a long day.”

“Apparently. Raelle was just here, asking about you. She said you were supposed to meet up again tonight. What, were you, sleeping with Libba now?”

“ _Shit_ ,” Scylla muttered. She immediately began putting her shoes back on her feet. “Also, no. I’m with Raelle, you know that.”

“What, you’re leaving again already? Come on, just tell me something about Libba. Does she know about the Spree?”

“Look, you don’t need to worry about Libba. She’s just upset about other things and she took it out on you.”

“Well, why didn’t she just tell me?”

“I don’t know, Abigail! Maybe she didn’t feel comfortable with you. You can be very judgmental.”

“Judgmental?” she cried. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know!” Scylla was exasperated. “The point is, this is something you need to work out between you and her. It’s not really my place to explain what’s going on.”

“If she didn’t want to talk to me then, how am I supposed to get her to talk to me now?” Hearing herself, Abigail was embarrassed by the frantic note in her voice. _Weakness._ She straightened her shoulders and forced herself to push down the complicated mass of emotions her conflict with Libba brought up. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. I’ll figure it out.”

“And there’s the Abigail we all know and love,” Scylla muttered. Her hand was on the door. Before she pulled it open, though, she hesitated and turned back towards Abigail. “Just talk to Libba. Listen, don’t judge. I think you’ll be surprised at what you find.”

Satisfied with that last statement, Scylla pushed through the door.

Left alone in the apartment again, Abigail flopped back down onto the couch with a huff. _Great_.

When Raelle made it back to her apartment, she went straight to her bed and flopped down face-first over the covers. She let herself lay there for a few minutes before rolling over with a groan to take off her shoes and jacket. She had just stood up to go to the bathroom when a knock at the door took her by surprise.

She opened the door to a slightly disheveled Scylla, her brows knitted with worry. Her cheeks were tinged with pink and she held her hands together in front of her, wringing her fingers. The two of them stood there for a moment, just looking at each other.

“Hey,” Scylla finally began. “Can I come in?”

Raelle opened the door and stepped to the side. Scylla walked inside and turned back to look at Raelle, as though waiting for her to speak. Still, Raelle didn’t say anything. Though she was trying hard to keep her face neutral, she could tell that her brows were drawn and her jaw clenched. She didn’t quite know how to relax it, though.

“I guess… I wanted to apologize for today. Although to be quite honest, I’m not exactly sure what I’m apologizing for. Abigail told me that you came by earlier, looking for me. I know we talked about meeting up again, but I just got busy—”

“With Libba? Or with Porter?”

The color seemed to drain from Scylla’s face. “Porter? I—”

“This morning, at the store, he about knocked me over and told me that I have a poor taste in girlfriends. I call you, and you act like you have no idea. Not only that, but you sounded like you were _in bed_ with Libba. Then, I talk to Byron, and I find out you and him dated for _six years_. And that he’d said you were secretive, manipulative. And _then_ , I come by your place today to see why you’ve been ignoring me and I see you and him hugging. So I’m just trying to figure out what the fuck is going on with you.”

“I—”

“How am I supposed to trust you?”

Scylla moved towards Raelle to take her hands in hers. She winced when Raelle took a step back from her.

“Just talk to me, Scyll.”

Scylla sighed. It looked like she was gathering herself. “Porter and I dated for a long time, it’s true. I broke up with him more than a year ago, though. He’s sort of… followed me. But I swear to you, I had no idea he was here until today.”

“Before or after you got into bed with Libba?”

Scylla brought a hand to her forehead. “I never got in bed with Libba. We were at a coffee shop. She guessed I was on the phone with you, and she wanted to mess with me. It was a stupid, shitty, joke. And for the record, it wasn’t even my idea to hang out with her today. When I got back to my apartment after this morning, Abigail cornered me and made me go talk to her to figure out why she got ghosted. She even threatened me into it – I had no choice.”

“So you stayed with her all day, and into the night?”

“Raelle.” Scylla’s voice hardened. “I don’t need to describe my daily whereabouts to you. I didn’t sleep with Libba and I didn’t do anything with Porter. That’s all you need to know.”

Raelle scoffed. “Is it? I didn’t even know you had an ex at all until today. I had to learn about my own girlfriend from two other people today.”

“It’s not really a chapter of my life that I like to revisit. I thought I’d seen the last of Porter. I really did. And what you saw tonight, me hugging him, I think that was him coming to terms with the fact that we will never be together again. I promise you, I am done with that.”

“Why can’t you just tell me more about what happened with Libba tonight, though?”

Scylla took another step towards Raelle. This time, she didn’t step back.

“Because. That’s part of the reason why I couldn’t be with Porter anymore.” Scylla looked down at her hands, fidgeting with her fingers. “He was always jealous. He wanted to know what I was doing, who I was with, all the time. And even when I told him, it was never enough. If I just missed or forgot the slightest detail, he would go off. Being with him, like that, was awful. I always felt guilty just for doing what I wanted to do. And I hated always having to answer his check-ins, hated being anxious that I would answer the wrong way.” Scylla lifted her gaze, resolute. “When we broke up, I made a promise to myself – no more. I wouldn’t let anyone try to control me like that again.”

Raelle closed the distance between them to pull Scylla in for a hug. Even though she’d tried to stop it, her heart still ached for the pain Scylla had clearly been suppressing in her words.

“I don’t want to control you. I just want to trust you.”

Scylla pulled back to look into Raelle’s eyes. She traced her fingers over her cheekbones. “Then trust me. You know I care about you. Just have a little faith. Please.”

Raelle looked back into Scylla’s eyes, captivated in their depths. They were damn near hypnotizing. Byron’s words from earlier ran through her head again – _if you care about her, fight for her_.

Maybe she could have a little faith.

Raelle brought her hands to either side of Scylla’s face. “Okay. But please, Scyll, just tell me the truth moving forward.”

Scylla nodded solemnly. Unable to stand it anymore, Raelle pulled her in for a kiss. After a few moments, though, Scylla pulled back with a smile.

“What?”

“So I’m your girlfriend?” Scylla asked coyly. She slid her hands up the back of Raelle’s shirt as she did.

Raelle couldn’t stop the grin that took over her face. “Shut up.”

Scylla leaned in to nip at Raelle’s earlobe. “Make me,” she whispered.

Raelle only barely managed to suppress a gasp at the suggestion. She took it to heart, though. Knotting her fingers in Scylla’s hair, she crushed their lips together and looped her free hand into the loops of Scylla’s jeans to crush their hips together.

“I’ll show you how to behave,” she practically growled. Scylla whimpered into her mouth.

Maybe the day wouldn’t be a complete loss after all.


	10. she's lying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fresh from the trials of trusting Scylla with Libba and Porter, Raelle learns something new that forces her to question whether her faith in Scylla is well-placed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year!!! writing is hard work. who knew!

“Mmm.”

“Come on, Scyll. I have to get to Tally’s,” Raelle laughed.

“No. Stay here,” Scylla mumbled, not loosening her grip around Raelle’s waist at all. She smiled when Raelle reached down to kiss her forehead. “Yeah, just keep doing that.”

Raelle managed to free herself from Scylla’s embrace, though the bedridden brunette struggled all the way.

“Okay, fine. Go. But come here for just a moment,” Scylla pleaded. Raelle smiled and acquiesced, flopping down on top of Scylla.

Scylla winced dramatically before smiling and reaching up for Raelle’s head. She buried her fingers in her pale blond locks and pulled her in for a kiss. She brought her thigh up and around her girlfriend’s waist for good measure, pushing their hips together. Raelle, for her part, reached down to slip her arm under the small of Scylla’s back and pull her closer. When she felt her blood begin to rush and her resolve to leave dissolving, though, she pulled back.

“Whoah, babe. Much longer and I won’t be able to leave at all.”

Scylla smiled and leaned up to chase Raelle’s lips with her own. “That’s exactly the point, _babe_.”

“As much as I would like to, I really need to finish this project. Unlike you, I actually need to graduate from this code school. And you’re sure you wouldn’t rather just catch a ride back to your place with me?”

“Yes. I’d much rather just stay here and nap for a while. I can walk over later. Oh, and by the way, I still can’t believe you partnered with _Tally_ over me on that stupid project.”

“I believe in a work-life separation. And it’s a good thing I chose not to do it with you, after all. We’d have gotten nothing done.”

“And why would we, when such better activities await?” Scylla got out of bed suddenly to embrace Raelle from behind, her hands on her hips. She began laying gentle kisses along the skin of Raelle’s exposed shoulder and neck.

Raelle laughed. “Wow, you’re really feeling it this morning.”

“It’s just what you do to me, Rae,” Scylla whispered into her ear. She nipped delicately at her earlobe to punctuate the remark.

Raelle turned suddenly, taking Scylla by surprise. She used the advantage to push Scylla back to the wall behind her. She loved the small gasp that resulted when she closed the distance and pinned her girlfriend to the wall with her body. She watched her girlfriend intently, smirking at the desire plain on her face. Her heart raced in her chest, begging her to lean forward and close the distance between them. Scylla’s eyes begged for the same, flashing between Raelle’s eyes and lips. She threw her arms around Raelle’s shoulders and wrapped around her waist. She dug her heel into her back, pulling her hips closer to hers.

 _Fuck_.

“I really have to go,” Raelle said again. This time, it was mostly meant to convince herself.

“Hurry back,” Scylla whispered. Somehow, she managed to make the demand sound deliberate, controlled. Raelle didn’t know how she was always able to manage that, even in the strongest throes of desire, but she wasn’t complaining. Disconcerting though it could sometimes be, it was also hot as hell.

“You can bet on it.” Raelle fought back by pushing one thigh forward, grinding where she knew Scylla wanted her. This was enough to break through Scylla’s carefully controlled exterior, revealing a glimpse of raw ecstasy underneath. There was something delicious about the way her lips parted, her brow furrowed, and her cheeks reddened in response to Raelle’s touch. It was enough to make her shiver. Still, she had to leave. She needed to do _something_ today.

Her blood racing more than ever, Raelle pulled away suddenly and began gathering her things. She nearly ran out of the door, secure in the knowledge that even a second’s delay would be enough to completely erode her resolve to do anything besides stay in bed with Scylla all day, chasing the high of those unfiltered moments. She called out a final goodbye over her shoulder from the doorframe.

She tried to shake the lingering excitement away during the familiar walk to her car. In less than a minute, Scylla had nearly gotten her revved up enough to completely abandon her schoolwork and while away the day in bed with her.

She’d never experienced chemistry so intoxicating.

After a short and familiar drive, she pulled into the apartment Scylla shared with Abigail and Tally. Nearly a week had passed since she saw Scylla with Porter here. The mental image was still hard to shake, but she believed Scylla. She just had to learn to live with it. After all, she had exes of her own. They hadn’t been together nearly as long as Scylla and Porter had, but still. Scylla was with her now – that was all that mattered.

She looked around as she stepped out of her car. There was someone on the bench across the street, glancing around with the furtive demeanor of someone would rather remain unseen. Her curiosity piqued, she squinted at the figure. After a few seconds, she registered with surprise that it was Porter. Anger and resentment, hot and bitter, washed through her at the sight. _Just what the hell does he think he’s doing here?_ Scylla’s description of his controlling behavior, and the indignation that had followed, rushed back to her. Still, she couldn’t deny that a part of her felt relieved at the sight of him. At the very least, this was confirmation that he was just as Scylla described – a controlling creep.

It was time for his reign over her life to end. For good this time.

Raelle strode towards him with purpose. He glanced in surprise up at the sound of her approach. She stopped about five paces away from him. She planted her feet and squared her shoulders, her jaw resolute. He stood to greet her.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded hotly.

Porter glanced away, looking around as though reaching for an explanation. After a second, though, he gave up with a heavy sigh. He shrugged loosely, his eyes on the ground between them. “I’m just keeping an eye out on Scylla?”

“She doesn’t want that. She doesn’t want _you_. Can’t you just get the message and leave her alone? This is not okay!”

Porter’s face hardened. “Oh, and she wants _you_?”

“Yeah, believe it or not. And even if she didn’t, you’ve still got to let her go. She doesn’t want this.” She gestured broadly towards the bench.

Porter scoffed. “Alright, keep telling yourself that. You’re just a mark to her, anyways.”

His response took her by surprise. “A mark?” _What does that mean?_

Porter’s face twisted into a cruel smirk. “Yeah, a mark. Scylla was sent here to recruit you to the Spree.” He stood up then, stepping towards Raelle until he towered over her. “You’re just an assignment to her. And I’m guessing she’s been successful, huh? You’re ready to give your life up for the Spree? For her? Well, me too. The magic doesn’t last long, though. Trust me.”

Porter stepped away and angrily returned to his position on the park bench. Raelle turned and walked away from him, fast. She didn’t want him to see just how shaken his comments had left her.

 _I’m a mark? What could the Spree possibly want from me?_ Unless. Unless they knew about her hacking. Scylla had said the Spree had a cyber unit. Were they trying to recruit her as a hacker? Had Scylla known about that before she’d even told her? Had Scylla just been playing her all along, taking advantage of her? Hell, was Scylla even into girls? Maybe she’d just picked that up from Raelle’s digital trail somehow. How much of what they had was real? And most importantly, how could Scylla not tell her she was a mark? She’d had plenty of chances. Why would she hide that, unless she knew that it would lead to questions she couldn’t answer?

By the time Raelle knocked on the apartment door, she was thoroughly shaken by the unanswerable thoughts racing around in her head. She didn’t know what to believe anymore.

Tally opened the door quickly, a broad smile on her face. She must have seen something through Raelle’s fake smile, though, because her smile changed dropped to a concerned frown.

“Hey, are you okay?” Tally reached out to clutch both of Raelle’s shoulders. She just shrugged out of the touch.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s get to work.” Raelle pushed past Tally and into the apartment.

Though Tally still looked concerned, she nodded and ushered Raelle towards the living room’s meager coffee table. They each opened their laptops and began to work quietly. A few minutes passed until Tally finally said something.

“You can tell me, you know. Whatever’s wrong. I know that there’s something. I’ve never seen you like this before.”

Raelle looked up at Tally with a sigh. “I just got done talking to Porter.”

“Porter? Who’s Porter?”

“Yeah, right?” Raelle chuckled humorlessly and sighed. “Scylla’s ex of six years.”

“ _Six years_? What is he doing out here in Salem? I thought Scylla was from the east coast.”

“She is. They are. I don’t know what he’s doing out here. But he told me that I’m just a mark to Scylla. That you, all of you, were sent out here to recruit me.”

“Recruit? Recruit for what?” Tally laughed, looking distressed.

“Tal, it’s okay. I know you’re all with the Spree.”

Tally looked at her with wide eyes for a moment. “Scylla… Scylla told you?”

“Yeah. Is it true, though? Am I really just a mark to Scylla?”

“Well, as far as I know, we haven’t found our mark yet. We’re looking for a hacker who’s worked with investigative journalists over the years. Well, it was Scylla’s job originally. Abigail and I just kind of got added on at the last minute to keep Scylla on track. The only case that we really have a lot of information on is one of her first ones, where she targeted the head of a hospital for corruption. Scylla guessed that it might have had something to do with a doctor who’d died there recently, a woman.”

Raelle dropped her head into her hands. _So it’s true. I was just a mark to her._

“Wait. Is that you? Did you do that?”

Raelle just gave Tally a side-eye.

“Oh my god! This is huge!” Tally stood up, her eyes lit up with excitement. She paced around the room a few times before stopping in front of Raelle with wide eyes. “Raelle, I have to say. I am such a big fan,” Tally gushed. “I wish I could do what you do. I mean, I’m trying my best, I guess.”

Raelle chuckled dryly. “Good to know I have fans.” _And a lying girlfriend._

“Wait, so if Scylla told you about the Spree, why didn’t she tell you that we came out here for you?”

Raelle shrugged. “I don’t know. But it doesn’t look good.”

“I wonder if she knows. And if she does, how long she’s known,” Tally thought out loud. “I mean, she got really into you right away.”

“Yeah, she did.”

Raelle thought back to the first day they’d met. Back to when they’d skipped class, bought a joint, walked along the river, and then gone back to her place later for ramen and sake. They’d stayed the night together that first day and been inseparable since. Though she hadn’t told Scylla about the extent of her hacking that day, she had shared a story about a blackmail piece she uncovered in high school. And that night, she’d admitted she’d lost her mom. To someone like Scylla, that would mean she fit the profile. By the first day they met, Scylla would have known enough to suspect Raelle was her mark.

Raelle felt sick to her stomach. She hated that she’d shared these pieces of herself with Scylla. Hated that those pieces of herself had been used against her. Hated that Scylla used her – was still using her. That she’d _let_ her use her. She should have known better than to trust someone she’d just met, to think that they would be any better than everyone else who’d let her down. Memories of the two of them together over the last two months flashed behind her eyes – the small smiles, the affectionate touches, the nights spent late in each other’s arms just talking. God, the times she’d let Scylla touch her. Was it all just an elaborate manipulation? Her mouth tasted bitter.

“Raelle…?” Tally reached out to touch Raelle’s leg. She stood up to avoid it and started pacing instead, running her hands through her hair. She paced for a few minutes. Thankfully, Tally was gracious enough to give her the time to think without any questions.

“Why did you join the Spree?” Raelle suddenly blurted out. She stopped her facing to turn and face Tally.

“Because I had to do _something_. Have you seen the state of the world? It’s awful. People are dying every day from preventable causes. No, causes that our government has been warned about for decades. But corruption has let it continue. Get worse, even. Climate change, water pollution, air pollution from fossil fuels, monopolies, job outsourcing, wealth stratification, and soon soil erosion, and water scarcity, and artificial intelligence, and who knows what else. People have tried for _so long_ to fix it the ‘right way’ but it hasn’t done anything. I mean seriously, if our government doesn’t act now, and maybe even if it _does_ , the world we spend the rest of our lives in will be harsh, and violent, and still dominated by the same few people who don’t give a damn about everyone else!”

During her little speech, Tally had risen from her position on the couch. She stood erect, her chest forward and chin held high. She looked every bit the righteous warrior Raelle would hope to see in a group like the Spree. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself before continuing to speak, this time in a gentler voice. “I joined the Spree because I care about people. And because our system doesn’t. The Spree can change that. I mean, really change that. The fate of the world is at stake and our leaders are acting like it’s just another day, every day. Someone needs to step up. _We_ need to step up. And they need to be dealt with.”

A heavy silence hung between them. When Tally spoke, it was blindingly obvious how much she cared. But importantly, it wasn’t coming from a place of anger; rather, it was coming from a place of compassion. Her words stirred something in Raelle that had long played at the edges of her mind, manifesting itself in modest acts of rebellion assisting investigative journalism. What she’d done already wasn’t enough, not even close. But what if she joined forces with the Spree? She could really give her life to the cause, and be more powerful than she could ever be on her own. Maybe with them, they could actually do something. Maybe she could help put the world on a better course. The kind of course that could save thousands of families from the kind of pain she grew up with.

She’d nearly given up on dreams of fixing the world. Instead, she’d chosen to spend her time out here in Salem, at this goddamn _code school_ , learning how to make websites for businesses so that one day, she could afford to lead a powerless life of quiet desperation. She was glad to see that not everyone had resigned themselves to that fate. Tally, clearly, still believed in hope. In action.

Raelle chuckled humorlessly. “You know, Scylla has never said anything like that. If she’s supposed to recruit me, she’s done a terrible job.”

“She… hasn’t?” Tally looked hurt.

Raelle shook her head. All that Scylla had ever said about the Spree was that she didn’t trust them. She considered telling Tally about Scylla’s incident at the oilfield and her distrust of Bellweather, but she hesitated. She didn’t want to put Scylla in a dangerous position or anything.

A thought struck her. What if _Scylla_ was the one that couldn’t be trusted, instead of the Spree? What if the whole incident had been her fault and she’d just chosen Bellweather as a scapegoat? If she’d been genuinely concerned, why hadn’t she asked Raelle to help look into it earlier? After all, it was pretty clear by now that Scylla knew Raelle was her mark. She must have known the whole time that Raelle could help.

Or, even worse, what if it had actually been Scylla that turned in the Spree to the feds? Maybe she hadn’t expected for everyone to die from it, which would explain why she seemed so guilty when she spoke about it. Maybe she was still undercover for the FBI. Maybe she hadn’t recruited Raelle because she didn’t actually qualify as a target for arrest yet.

But then again, what if Scylla was both telling the truth and right about her suspicions? What if Bellweather really was dangerous, and Scylla just hadn’t wanted Raelle to get tangled up with her? If that was the case, though, why hadn’t she just said so when she opened up about the Spree? Why lie about Raelle being her mark?

Raelle’s head was swirling with the possibilities. Tally was fixing her with a discerning look that Raelle worried meant Tally could actually see what she was thinking on her face. She’d noticed that about Tally early on – she seemed, at times, disturbingly perceptive.

“How did you find out about the Spree?” she asked to deflect her attention away from herself.

Tally cleared her throat, finally breaking the intense gaze she’d been holding on Raelle. “Well, all of my aunts were a part of the original Spree, back in the 70s. A lot of them ended up in prison for some of the things they did. My mom begged me not to join, but…” Tally looked down, fiddling with her thumb. “I couldn’t just do nothing. Things have been getting so much worse. I had to do something. It’s a war that we’re fighting. And wars need soldiers who are willing to give their lives for the good of others.”

The sentences sounded to Raelle like they’d borne some repetition in Tally’s mind. Like Tally’s thoughts had tumbled and ground down the jagged edges of the harsh sentiments until they were like polished rocks, pretty to the eye and smooth to the touch. She wondered how long they’d been fixtures of Tally’s world.

“Tally… Do you trust the Spree?”

Tally’s eyes were sharp again. “Why do you ask?”

“I…” Raelle considered what to share. Even if Scylla was a liar, she still didn’t want to put her in danger. Her heart clenched at the thought of her getting hurt. But then again, even if she didn’t trust the Spree, she did trust Tally. That girl didn’t have a mean bone in her body. “Scylla did tell me that she doesn’t trust your new Commander, Bellweather. What do you think?”

Tally shook her head. “God, she didn’t tell you what the Spree stood for, but she told you _that_?” When Raelle just raised her eyebrows, Tally pursed her lips and continued. “I don’t know, to be honest. I know Scylla has her doubts. And I know that since I’ve joined the Spree, it’s been a lot different than I imagined. Different than what my aunts told me about. But I haven’t been a part of the Spree for that long. I mean really, I’d only been with the Spree for a week as Abigail’s trainee before I was sent out here.”

“Seriously? Only a week?”

Tally nodded solemnly. “We’ve been pretty cut off from everyone out here, too. So I don’t know what everyone else at the Spree is up to. Commander Bellweather talks a lot about making sure that important information is only communicated in-person and only shared with the people who need to know. Out here, though, we don’t really need to know anything. Every communication is a risk, she always says.”

“Does that strike you as odd?”

“I don’t really know, Raelle. I’m sorry I don’t know more. But I’m just still so new here. And it wasn’t that long ago that an entire Spree base was killed by the FBI. The assholes in power will do anything to get rid of us. We _do_ need to be careful.”

Raelle’s thoughts returned to Scylla. She wished she could ask Tally more about her, but if she’d only known her since they were sent to Salem, she probably only knew Scylla as well as she herself did. Maybe they’d both been presented with a fictional Scylla. She recalled the careful control Scylla almost always seemed to retain over her words and expressions. What if that was because most of what she showed Raelle was pure fabrication? _Maybe Porter’s the only one in this damn town that knows who she really is._ The thought hit Raelle like a punch to the gut.

“Maybe Scylla’s the one I shouldn’t trust,” Raelle thought out loud.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, maybe she just made up this whole Bellweather thing. Maybe she’s just a coward that wants to quit on the Spree because she got tired. Maybe she didn’t tell me about this stuff because she doesn’t want either of us to be involved. Maybe… maybe she was even the one that ratted on the Spree in the first place on that mission.”

Tally sat back and thought for a moment. “That’s what Abigail would say.”

The pair’s eyes met. They were clearly both rattled.

“Maybe we should just work on this project?”

“Sounds good to me,” Tally quickly agreed.

Scylla awoke to the sun shining directly into her eyes. She squinted and rolled over, realizing that she was still in Raelle’s apartment. It had been a nice nap.

She curled in on herself, enjoying Raelle’s scent in the sheets around her. She felt deliciously comfortable here – safe, warm, and far from her troubles. Coming to Salem had been a small blessing. It had finally given her some much-needed distance from the incident and all the baggage it had left her with. It had also introduced her to Raelle, which was no small event. Things had been going so idyllically. At least, until a week ago. Libba’s revelation about Bellweather’s plot had really disrupted her fragile peace. Porter’s reappearance into her life hadn’t helped, either.

Most days, Scylla was acutely aware that she lived in a time-limited little bubble. Her reintroduction to the remaining Spree field unit had made that impossible to ignore. Her time, her innocent, precious time with Raelle on the peaceful island that was Fort Salem Code School, couldn’t last forever. With all the inevitability of a sunset, Scylla saw on the horizon the tumult of a reckoning with a fractured Spree and a confrontation of her relationship with Raelle. Unless she completely abandoned the Spree, it looked like she was in for a mess more trouble with them. Fighting Bellweather, thwarting a biological attack on the world, and leaving the one person in the world she’d ever found that she thought she could truly give herself to. Things were tough enough without adding “falling in love” to the mixture. Thinking about it never seemed to get her anywhere. Instead, it just left her mind buzzing like a beehive and filled with anxious thoughts on endless loops.

She’d rather just stay in this bed, surrounded by Raelle’s scent and tucked safely away in the happy little bubble she’d managed to find in Salem. She wished her girlfriend had stayed there so they could both ignore reality together a little while longer.

Still, a grumble deep in her stomach roused her and spurred her into action. She hadn’t eaten in nearly a full day and she refused to eat from Raelle’s carefully purchased groceries. She gathered her clothes from around Raelle’s bed and stumbled over to the tiny bathroom in the corner. As she brushed her teeth, she faced up to herself in the mirror. More and more often, she found the image of herself looking back at her somewhat of a mystery. Who had she become with the Spree? Who was she going to become, if she continued this life? Most intriguing of all, who could she be with Raelle?

Fragments of possible futures flashed through her mind. One of her and Raelle, wearing matching white dresses in dappled sunlight as autumn leaves fell around them. One of her dressed in black, darting through the streets of her country with a gun strapped to her back and the Spree by her side as they fought through a civil war. One of her surrounded by familiar faces, rejoicing at the future they had fought so hard and lost so much to win, seated around a large dinner table with homemade food in their bellies and a flush in their cheeks. One of her alone in cell, clad in a jumpsuit. One of her grave, fresh but already forgotten and far from everything she’d once loved.

Scylla shuddered as she rinsed the mint from her mouth. She’d much rather just stay in this happy limbo she’d found with Raelle forever.

As ready for the day as she’d ever be, Scylla grabbed her keys and began the walk back to her apartment.

“You should really join the Spree, you know. I’ve seen what you can do. I know you care. I know that you’re brave. And I know that you would be powerful.”

Raelle looked up, surprised by Tally’s interjection. She’d insisted nearly an hour ago that they stop talking to just work on the project, but Tally couldn’t hold it in any longer. She watched Raelle’s face contort with conflicting emotions.

“I just really don’t know. I don’t know how I can trust them after… everything.”

“Do you think you can’t trust the Spree, or do you think you can’t trust Scylla?”

Raelle looked pained. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

“Believe that we’re the good guys.” Tally reached over to lay a hand over Raelle’s. “We fight for truth and justice. If our government wasn’t so corrupt, we wouldn’t need to fight at all. But we’re not that lucky. We need you, Raelle. You could do so much to help us win. To help us make sure that the world we leave behind is no worse than the one we came into.”

“What happens if I do join the Spree?”

“Well, I don’t know exactly,” Tally hesitated. “I think you’d withdraw from this code school and head back to the headquarters with us. And then we would start working with the main Spree again.”

“What… what would happen to Scylla?”

“Well, I don’t know about that either. She would probably be disciplined for hiding you away. After that, though, I don’t know. You wouldn’t have to see her again if you didn’t want to though, I don’t think. At least not once we get back to headquarters.”

“And where’s that?”

Tally smiled. “I don’t think I should tell you that until you’re one of us.”

“Believe me, I’m thinking about it.”

Raelle looked lost. Her face churned with emotion – if Tally had to guess, it probably had to do with Scylla. Deception or not, Tally could tell those two loved each other. Still, it must have been hard for Raelle to try to suddenly come to grips with the fact that their whole relationship was built on a false pretense. She was secretly sure that they’d come to their senses, though – they were too good a match to let something so foolish ruin their chances at a relationship together. And if Raelle joined the Spree, that might be something that they could actually pursue in the long term.

Tally smiled at Raelle and went back to typing away at her computer. She’d keep working on her, piece by piece. If Scylla wouldn’t do her job, she’d do it for her.

“I hope you really consider it, Raelle. I truly think that you belong with us. You said it yourself – what is the point of feeding into a lifestyle that’s doomed to end and bring others down along with it? But if you join us, you can help put an end to the cycle. You can do something really meaningful. And, you can be surrounded by people who are just as dedicated to solving the problems as you are.”

Raelle nodded at Tally’s impassioned speech as she slid her laptop into her bag. They’d spent the last hour talking about the Spree and what it would mean for Raelle to become a part of it. She’d even opened up about the topics she always went around and around on; especially, whether she wanted to just become a part of the capitalist apparatus and resign herself to a fate governed by corruption and greed. Tally had made a convincing argument for the alternative that she herself had often considered – a life of action. But, instead of her imagined reality of lone rebellion and constant paranoia, Tally painted a different picture. She could be a part of a thriving community of people spread across the country devoted to the same cause and principles. She may still be mobile, but she would never be alone. And, as Tally had pointed out, if she and Scylla resolved their issues, they could be together for longer than just Scylla’s time in Salem. The more she thought about it, the better it sounded. A “normal” life had never really been on the table for her, anyways. The possibility of normal had evaporated when her mom died.

Tally took Raelle’s quiet nod as encouragement and continued. “Just let me know if you come to a decision, okay? And drive safe.”

Raelle nodded again and turned to leave the apartment. She had a lot to consider.

But first, she needed to talk to Scylla.

As she made her way to her car across the street, Raelle noticed two things. First, that Porter was still seated on the park bench like a creep. Second, that Scylla was walking along the pavement on a course to intercept her. She was looking down at her phone and hadn’t noticed either Raelle or Porter. Porter, on the other hand, seemed to notice both of them. He stood up and turned to face them, but made no move to approach them.

Anger quickened Raelle’s step as she closed the distance between her and Scylla. They’d nearly ran into each other by the time Scylla looked up and saw her.

“Hey! What good timing. I was hoping I’d run into you,” Scylla smiled. She leaned in for a kiss, but Raelle turned her head and pulled back. Scylla frowned.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

“Scylla, why did you come to Fort Salem?”

Scylla’s frown deepened. “I told you, they sent us out here to recruit coders –”

“Just coders? No coders in particular?”

“Why are you asking me these questions –”

“Scylla, am I your mark or am I not?” Raelle thundered. Scylla looked taken aback. Raelle watched as her eyes flitted over Raelle’s shoulder to a point behind her – probably Porter. Her face darkened. “Oh, and your ex is here,” Raelle added with some venom.

“Okay, let’s not do this here,” Scylla hissed. Raelle let her lead her by the arm across the street, away from both the apartment and from Porter. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

“Why don’t you tell me?”

Scylla’s face looked like it was twitching around. _Probably trying to come up with the most convincing lie_ , a part of Raelle whispered. Scylla’s face finally seemed to settle on a look of rueful concern.

“Okay, yes. We were sent here to find one hacker who’d worked with some investigative journalists. All we really knew about her was that she was a girl, some of the projects she worked on, and that she would be at this school. They figured it would be a longshot so they also asked us to recruit others from the school while we’re at it—”

“How am I supposed to trust you now? Porter and Libba last week, and now all this? Do you just have no problem keeping secrets from me?”

“I just wanted to keep you safe—”

“ _Safe_? You wanted to keep me _safe_? You can’t do that, Scyll. You can’t just decide for me what I do and don’t want to do, or what is or isn’t _safe_ enough for me. _Especially_ not when that’s just a convenient excuse to help you avoid being honest with me about things that make you uncomfortable. And you know what? I’m joining the Spree. No thanks to you, by the way.”

Scylla looked shocked. “No, Raelle, I really don’t think that’s a good idea—”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do!” Raelle’s breaths came out in angry huffs. She vaguely noticed a bitterly cold breeze stirring the air – it seemed appropriate. “I don’t listen to liars.”

She wanted to leave this conversation behind, leave Scylla behind. The whole thing made her feel sick. As she brushed past Scylla to walk away, though, she reached out and grabbed her hand.

“No, wait,” she pleaded. “Bellweather’s dangerous. I don’t trust her. You could be in danger.”

Raelle scoffed. “Oh, yeah? Have you got anything to back that up with?”

Scylla’s face collapsed. She looked down.

“Got anything else to tell me? Any other secrets you’ve kept?” Raelle stepped towards her again, getting into Scylla’s personal space. Scylla was barely able to meet her eyes.

Seeing that nothing was forthcoming, Raelle turned to leave again. Once again, Scylla reached out to grab her hand. This time, though, she held onto it.

“Raelle, I know you don’t trust me right now. But even if you believe nothing else, believe this – I love you.” Scylla’s voice broke. She wiped tears from her eyes with her free hand. “Everything we were together, everything we are – none of that was a lie. I promise.”

Tears welled in the corners of Raelle’s eyes too, despite her efforts to stop them. A part of her wanted to believe Scylla. But everything else in her felt too hurt, too betrayed, to accept anything that came from those beguiling lips right now.

Instead of saying something, she just ripped her hand from Scylla’s grasp and took off towards her car. A car screeched to a halt to her left as she crossed the street without looking, just barely avoiding her. She barely registered it. Its driver honked at her, but she ignored it. Her vision was blurry with tears and her chest was on fire by the time she got into her car. Trying to avoid the chance that Scylla would follow her and try to talk to her, she hurriedly dried her eyes and pulled away back towards her apartment.

Once she’d put the cark in park outside her apartment, she pulled out her cellphone. To her relief, she saw no messages from Scylla. She dialed Tally’s number and held the phone to her ear.

“Hey, Tal. I’ve made a decision. I’m in. When do I start?”

Scylla watched Raelle go with tears in her eyes. Her hand was still extended, left where she’d had it when Raelle pulled away. She wanted to reach out an pull Raelle back into her arms, but it was too late. The distance between them grew with each passing second.

_What the hell just happened?_

One thing was for sure – her bubble of bliss with Raelle had just popped. And by the looks of it, it wouldn’t be coming back any time soon.

_I love you._

She’d been shocked to hear those words cross her lips. She hadn’t even been completely sure she meant the words; though it had played around the edges of her thoughts, she’d never let herself fully entertain it. She just couldn’t. There was no denying it now, though. When the prospect of losing Raelle had become real before her eyes, it had broken through her psyche and out into the open with a desperate ferocity. She couldn’t force it back – not now that it had seen the light of day. And, unfortunately for her, its freedom seemed only to make it stronger. She’d been strong enough to suppress it, but she wasn’t strong enough to wrestle it back now.

This love was different from what she’d had with Porter. With him, it had been about safety, security, familiarity. They’d grown up together; he’d known her better than anybody. But she felt so much _more_ with Raelle. That fiery little blonde had managed to shine light and warmth into parts of Scylla that she’d thought withered away years ago. If she was being honest, she’d never felt so whole. At least, up until a few moments ago.

She was in love with Raelle. And Raelle didn’t love her back.

A new pain took hold in Scylla’s chest, just behind her ribcage and below her throat. Part smoldering, part searing. It was accompanied by a familiar stirring of guilt and regret in her gut.

She could have prevented all of this by just telling Raelle the truth. Instead, she’d sacrificed the truth for a bubble of bliss. She wished she could go back, do it again. Do it right this time. When she told Raelle about the Spree, she should have just came clean that she thought she was their mark. Maybe then, she’d be in Raelle’s arms right now instead of standing alone on the street with a broken heart.

“Hey.”

Scylla was shaken from her thoughts by Porter. Without her noticing, he’d walked across the street and come to stand beside her. Suddenly acutely aware of her surroundings, she dropped her hand and shook out her shoulders. She cleared her throat and gave him a nod. She didn’t trust her voice yet.

“Well, now you know what it feels like.”

Scylla scowled up at him. At least he had the grace to not look smug.

“Get out of here, Porter,” she growled as she brushed past him. Thankfully, she didn’t hear footsteps to indicate he was walking after her.

When she opened the door to her apartment, she found Tally waiting in the living room with an unreadable expression. It was a strange departure from Tally’s usual effervescent energy. It tightened the knots in Scylla’s stomach left from her interaction with Raelle.

“Hey, Scylla.”

“Tally,” Scylla greeted. She fought to keep the swell of anger rising within her from her face. She didn’t need a fight right now.

Tally stood up and moved closer. When she saw what Scylla could only assume were red, puffy eyes, her face softened. “Oh, sweetie,” she cajoled, pulling her in for a hug. Scylla didn’t resist it, but she pulled away after a second.

“So, I just saw Raelle,” Scylla began.

Tally nodded solemnly. “Me too. We have a lot to talk about.”

Scylla wanted to start screaming at Tally for turning Raelle against her and convincing her to join Bellweather’s Spree. She only just managed to bite her tongue. “Why don’t you start?” she managed instead.

“Well, when she got in here, she was pretty shaken up. When I asked her about it, she said she’d just gotten done talking to Porter, your ex.” Scylla grit her teeth as Tally continued. “She said he’d told her she was a mark, that that was why you were together. And Scylla, I hate to say it, but it sounded like he was right.”

Scylla just nodded. Tally tilted her head as though waiting for elaboration, but Scylla didn’t provide it.

“How long have you known she was our mark?”

“Not long. A few days, maybe,” Scylla lied.

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I guess… I just wanted to prolong the innocence for a little while longer.” _That much is true_. She marshalled her courage to say what she had to say next. “Tally, I love her.”

Tally’s eyes widened. “Wow.”

“And when I told her that just now, she just walked away.” Scylla swallowed her pain and blinked back her tears. She needed to stay in control right now.

Tally put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “She was pretty upset when she found out you lied to her. Why did you do that?”

Scylla shrugged. She knew she needed to be careful with her words. “Like I said. I was falling for her and I didn’t want things to get complicated. I didn’t want to be a Spree operative. I just wanted to be Scylla to her.”

“But you told her about the Spree, about Bellweather. Why would you do that but not tell her the rest? Why tell her anything at all?”

She wiped her eyes and shrugged, trying to stall for time. _Because I know that Bellweather is sketchy and has a bioweapon. Because the Spree is at war with itself. Because Raelle is too good to get caught up in all of that. Because she felt like the only person I could trust._

“I don’t know. I guess she felt like the only person I could trust. And… I didn’t know if the Spree would be good for her.”

“That’s not a choice you get to make for her! For all of us, for that matter! She could do real good with the Spree! And yeah, that might be hard for her, but sacrifices have to be made for the common good!”

Scylla kept her face stoic. She was secretly glad Tally got angry; It was so much easier for her to harden herself against anger than disappointment. “Whatever.”

She was going to say more, but she was interrupted by Tally’s phone ringing. She crossed her arms and scowled as Tally turned around to take the call. It was a brief conversation. Tally spoke in hushed tones, so Scylla wasn’t able to pick out what exactly she’d said. When she turned around to face Scylla, her face was sober.

“That was Raelle. She’s in. She’s joining the Spree.”

Scylla’s mouth dropped open in shock. _Already?_ She stepped backwards to lean against the counter to steady herself. So she’d lost Raelle _and_ failed to protect her from Bellweather’s Spree. Could it get any worse?

The apartment door opening to her right provided her a moment’s distraction. Abigail marched through with a triumphant smile on her face and the obnoxious swagger that indicated she’d just gotten laid. Once she saw Tally’s and Scylla’s faces, though, her smile dropped.

“Okayyy, what’s going on?”

“Raelle’s our mark and I just recruited her. Scylla’s known for a while now and didn’t tell us,” Tally said quickly. Her words were hard in a way that Scylla hadn’t imagined her capable of. The pain in her gut worsened – Tally’s disapproval felt like an indictment.

Abigail rounded on Scylla with a much more predictable anger. “WHAT! How long have you known, Ramshorn?”

“Not that long. A few days, maybe,” Scylla lied again.

“She’s lying,” Tally said simply.

Abigail’s head swiveled between Tally and Scylla. Her gaze finally landed on Scylla, her mouth turned up into a disgusted sneer. “So I was right about you. And here I was, thinking that maybe I’d misjudged you. But I was right all along.” Abigail moved towards her until she was uncomfortably close and able to properly look down her nose at her. “You’re selfish and weak,” she spat. “You’re not worthy of the Spree.”

Before Scylla could say a word to defend herself, Abigail leaned back and turned to march right back out the door. Out of habit, Scylla looked towards Tally for support. But, of course, she found none. Just a look of deep disappointment tinged with anger.

All she wanted to do was cry, but there was no way she was about to do that in front of Abigail and Tally. Even if she wasn’t going to cry, she probably still looked teary from her interaction with Raelle earlier. She slunk into the bathroom without a second thought, locking the door behind her. She avoided looking at herself in the mirror, though; she felt weak enough as it was already. She didn’t need to see the pathetic look in her eyes to confirm what she already knew. She leaned back against the counter and put her head in her hands to take a few shaky breaths. Emotional distress or not, she needed to do something to regain Tally and Abigail’s trust in her. If she wanted to help stop Bellweather, she had no choice.

Still being careful to avoid looking at her reflection, Scylla ran cold water over some toilet paper and daubed it along her puffy eyes. So Tally was a human lie detector, apparently. That left her no choice – she had to come as close to the truth as possible. Not all of the truth, but much of it. Neither of them could deny that she had feelings for Raelle, and she could quite simply say that she didn’t come clean about Raelle so that she could spend more time getting to know her. And that she’d enjoyed the feeling of normalcy she’d gotten to feel in Salem after years of living a life in the shadows with the Spree. It was a plausible story, and mostly true. She just needed to sell it to them. She couldn’t do that if she looked too worried, like she probably did now.

She finally hazarded a glance at herself in the mirror but was surprised by what she saw. Rather than looking sad and worried, as she’d expected, she just looked blank. Blank and tired. She shook out her features, hoping to restore some life to her face. It only half-worked. _Whatever_ , she thought as she threw the door of the bathroom open and headed back into the living room. _Good enough_.

When she stepped out, she saw Abigail and Tally engaged in a tense argument in hushed tones. They both looked angry, but Tally looked surprised.

“What’s going on?” Scylla asked, speaking up loud enough to be heard. Their heads snapped over to her when she did. Abigail looked angry, but Tally’s brow was furrowed with indignation.

“I just got off the phone with my mother. I updated her on what’s going on. She wanted me to tell you that you’re out of the Spree.” Abigail crossed her arms with a sort of finality.

“I… What?”

“You lied to your commanding officer,” Abigail barked. She ignored Scylla’s snort and continued. “You’ve known Raelle was the mark for what, weeks now? Do you know much time and money was wasted during that time? Those are resources that could have gone to the real frontline, not out here in the middle of fucking nowhere! Not to mention everything that happened with the oil distribution center.”

“Come on, I was falling in love with her. I just wanted to spend more time with her –”

“Then recruit her to the damn Spree! You’d have gotten to know her plenty on the drive back to Chicago!”

“I’m sorry, Scylla,” Tally added softly from behind Abigail.

“Oh come on, Tally. She doesn’t deserve that from you,” Abigail chastised. “We’re leaving for Portland this Thursday. You have until then to pack up your things.” Her piece said, Abigail walked past Scylla towards her room. She paused at the doorway though and glanced over her shoulder. When she spoke, her voice was softer. “If you really care about the Spree, you can recruit some more coders on your way out. In fact, recruit enough, and you just might win yourself a ticket back into the Spree’s good graces.”

Abigail shut the door softly behind her, leaving Scylla alone with a wide-eyed Tally in the living room. The redhead gave Scylla an apologetic look, but it only enraged Scylla more. It was her fault that she’d lost Raelle, and now her fault that she’d lost even the Spree.

“Fuck you, Tally,” she hissed. Before she could see any kind of response, she donned her jacket and walked out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BAM!  
> just like that, it all blew up in Scylla's face.  
> but all hope is not yet lost for our lovely necro murder bby. more is in store


	11. The New Americans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raelle, Tally, and Abigail do a final recruitment push. Just before they go to headquarters with their new additions, they meet with Commander Bellweather to get an update on the Spree. But when things go wrong, nothing will ever be the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all... this chapter is long but you gotta stick to the end. also, I'm sorry 🥺   
> cw: death, gunshots

“Hey, pumpkin.” Raelle could almost hear the smile in her dad’s face. She couldn’t help but return the gesture, even if he couldn’t hear her.

“Hey, Dad.”

“How’re you doin’ up there? How’s school goin’?”

“Real good, Dad, real good. I’ve already gotten a job offer, even. I’m going to take it.”

“ _Already_? Honey, that’s fantastic!”

Raelle hummed and fought to suppress the pang of guilt she felt at lying to her father. Telling him the truth wasn’t really an option, though. For one thing, as Abigail had rather obnoxiously hammered into her, the Spree tried to keep their existence a closely guarded secret to those that wouldn’t join. But, more than that, Raelle didn’t want him to worry about her. What she was about to be doing would be illegal and almost definitely dangerous. It wouldn’t be fair to just leave him worried.

“When do you start?” he continued, totally unaware of her inner conflict.

“This Thursday. I’ve worked it out with my landlord, I’ve broken my lease. My rent payment stops at the end of the week.”

“So soon,” her murmured, clearly taken aback. “So, you’re not going to finish the course?”

“No. It’s really boring. And as it turns out, I don’t even need it. I guess you taught me enough all on your own.”

He laughed on the other end of the line. “Honey, I gave you the basics, but you took it and ran. Most of what you know is yours alone.” Raelle laughed but didn’t otherwise know how to respond to the compliment. At her silence, he continued. “Well, what are they going to be paying you?”

“Starting out, 50k a year. But if I advance, which I will, I could get up into six figures,” she lied. _Might as well give him something to be excited about._

He whistled. “Well, that is impressive. I’m proud of you.” A beat. “And I know your mother would be, too.”

Raelle pinched the bridge of her nose, wracked with another pang of guilt. _She would want me to help people_ , she told herself. At least that much she knew to be true.

“Thanks, Dad,” she sniffed. “Well, I’ve got to get going. I just thought I’d give you an update.”

“Well, I appreciate that. Congratulations again on your new position. It was good to hear from you.”

“Alright. Talk soon,” she finished, hanging up quickly. She only had so much energy to lie to her father; no need to prolong it any longer than necessary.

She took a deep breath and flopped back against her bed. She looked around at her little studio apartment, feeling a strange melancholy. The whole time she’d been there, the space had felt almost uncomfortably large. At times, it had made her feel more alone than she ever had. Scylla’s presence had helped with that. When Scylla was there, the apartment was warm, and exciting, and cozy, and fun, and filled with light. Well, not just the apartment. Raelle’s whole life had felt that way with her, too.

When Raelle was younger, she’d scoffed at the books, movies, and songs that made love and heartbreak out to be world-creating and world-ending acts. But now, sitting in this big, empty room, she finally understood what they were getting at. She’d changed with Scylla. The brunette had brought an excitement, confidence, and joy with her that had fundamentally changed the way she oriented herself in relation to the world around her. That new mentality is probably even why she’d decided to give up on code school and join the Spree. It was a strange thing, the way Scylla had so quickly charmed her way into Raelle’s heart and mind.

But then, that was before she’d realized the depth of her deception. Right now, Raelle was just confused, angry, and heartbroken. For all the positive impacts Scylla had on her life, she’d also lied to her at nearly every turn. Knowing what she did, Raelle couldn’t help but question every word, every glance, every intention. Still, she was at a loss with what to do with the last words Scylla spoke to her:

_I love you._

Maybe she _wasn’t_ lying about that. But did that really change anything, if Raelle couldn’t trust her? She didn’t know. But she did know that, despite herself, she loved Scylla back. Though did that change anything, either?

Thankfully, Raelle was interrupted by the insistent ringing of her phone. When she picked it up, it was Abigail that answered. The conversation was short, her words clipped. She demanded that she come over to the Spree apartment for a briefing and game plan. _A summons_ , she thought wryly. She hadn’t particularly liked Abigail before, and it looked like that would be unlikely to change once she joined her in the Spree. She began to wonder whether she’d made a mistake in enlisting herself, but she shut the thought down before it could grow. She couldn’t question herself before she’d even started; it wasn’t fair to the opportunity. And it definitely was an opportunity. For years, she’d wanted to do something like what she was about to do with the Spree. She wasn’t about to give up on that now.

She shrugged on her jacket and walked out, more determined than ever to join the Spree.

“Let me take that for you,” Porter said, reaching for the suitcase in Scylla’s hand.

“I’ve got it,” she growled, fixing him with a withering glare. It seemed to work, and he backed away with his hands up.

“ _Excuse_ me, I was just taught to be polite to ladies.”

“So polite that you insist on meaningless gestures to assert your strength and our fragility?” she snapped. He widened his eyes and turned to walk away, muttering under his breath.

“Nice one,” Libba piped up. She was seated on the stairs next to the door. Apparently, she’d been there the whole time.

“My spot’s up there, right?” she asked, nodding towards the staircase.

Libba nodded. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

It turned out that Scylla’s spot was an empty, cream-colored room with old, stained carpet and a window that looked directly into the neighboring house’s brick wall.

“Charming,” she deadpanned.

“The glamor of the revolutionary lifestyle,” Libba agreed. “Alright. Let’s go back downstairs. I found out some stuff about the Portland trip.”

They hurried downstairs. After a few shouts from Libba, Anacostia and Alder materialized in the living room. Porter, too, returned from wherever he’d gone to sulk. With everyone gathered, Libba gestured for them all to sit down on the couch and chairs. When she herself remained standing, Scylla guessed it was just for dramatic effect.

“Ladies and… man,” she began, casting a spiteful glance in Porter’s direction. Scylla smiled at the small admonition. Libba hadn’t had much love for Porter before, but after he told Raelle she was a mark and indirectly outed Scylla to Abigail and Tally, her mild dislike for him had grown into near-hatred. Though Anacostia and Alder were more professional about it, it was clear that they felt the same. Unhappy about this development, he’d spent the past few days sulking around the house. Everyone, him included, just wanted him gone. But with the danger that Bellweather might send for him again and either kill or interrogate him, he was stuck with them.

“Bellweather will be in Portland this Thursday. At 9:00, she will meet with the Three Percenters and the Oath Keepers.”

“The who?” Anacostia asked.

“They’re an anti-politician, pro-gun, extremist militia with national membership. They also say they’re not racist, but,” she paused and shrugged dramatically. “Y _’know_. Anyways, I have no idea how the hell Bellweather got them on board, but she did. They’re meeting at a lumber warehouse at 8, I think, to just talk. There’s no information there about her meeting Abigail and company, but obviously that is happening. If we want to see that, we should either follow Petra or the merry little band.” Libba finished with a shrug.

After a moment, Porter piped up. “That’s all? That’s all you know?”

Libba narrowed her eyes. “Yes, that’s all I know. Bellweather is _meticulous_ and, by the way, she adds another layer of encryption to her email every week that I have to tease through every time for these updates. Sometimes it takes hours. So yes, that’s all I’ve got.”

“Thank you, Libba, for that update,” Alder interjected, standing up from her position on the couch. “I, for one, think we should go.”

Everyone but Porter nodded in agreement. Looking around, Porter released a petulant sigh. “Are you serious? Literally all we know is that she’s meeting with a militia group. I don’t know if you’re all aware, but militia groups tend to be heavily armed and sort of violent. I would bet that they’re also extra antsy when they know that they’re getting involved in huge, very illegal plans.”

“And?” Libba looked bored.

“And? That’s dangerous!”

“And?” Libba repeated, her expression unchanged.

“I can’t with you people,” he muttered before getting up and walking out.

“We would do well to try to gather more intel before the meeting with the militias,” Anacostia said once he was gone. “At the very least, we should go see the warehouse. Look at entry and exit points, see what we might be getting ourselves into.”

“Oh, right. You were a soldier, weren’t you?” Libba asked, looking a little impressed.

“In another life,” the older woman replied grimly. “But it does come in handy.”

“We’ll head out tomorrow. We might as well all go.” Alder said with an air of decision.

“Might as well,” Scylla murmured.

“I’m pretty sure I can get Clive and Augustin to join,” Abigail drawled, casting a wink in Tally’s direction.

Tally rolled her eyes but smiled. “Well, I think I can get Gerit to join. And maybe Glory, too. Although I think she’s a little scared by the whole thing.”

Both of them turned their attention towards Raelle then, looking at her with expectant expressions. She looked between the two of them from her seat on the couch, unsure of how to respond. Sensing her tension, Tally stepped towards her with a small smile.

“Who do you think you can recruit, Raelle?”

“Uh, Byron, I guess? Although I’m still not really sure what I’d be recruiting him into.”

Abigail waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about it. We need all the people we can get, and fast. My mother was explicitly clear about that.”

“Was she clear about anything else? I mean, what are we doing in Portland? And after that? What am I even going to be doing with you guys?”

Abigail recoiled at the frustration in Raelle’s voice. “Down, girl. Someone’s grumpy. My mother will have all the answers you’re looking for. Just be patient.”

“So, have you asked Libba yet?” Tally asked brightly, changing the subject.

Abigail smirked. “Not just yet. But I’ve been working on her for a while, and I think she’ll be a really great addition. Almost as powerful as Raelle, even.”

Raelle snorted.

“ _Anyways_ ,” Abigail continued, “we should get everyone to gather here on Friday, once we’ve come back from Portland. And then we can head back to Chicago. With this many people, we should probably just rent a van or something. We’ll also have to ditch the car we’ve been using.”

“So, we’re driving back to Chicago? Aren’t you guys environmentalists, and doesn’t that use a lot of gas?” Raelle probed.

Abigail narrowed her eyes. “Yes, we are. And we recognize that there are casualties in war – this is one of them. What would you have us do, just sit around in one spot and sing kumbaya? How would that change _anything_? The problems we need to solve are _enormous_ and we won’t get anywhere until we can actually harness the power of the world to stop them. So yes, we’re driving back to Chicago.”

Tally furrowed her brows. “Raelle, are you okay?”

Raelle pulled away from the taller girl’s outstretched hand and stood from the couch. “Yeah. Fine,” she lied. She was antsy; she’d joined the Spree hoping that it would change everything but the several-day delay had made things anticlimactic, to say the least. So, instead of embarking on some kind of grand, illicit adventure, she was stuck here spinning her wheels and getting irritated by Bellweather’s attitude.

“I, uh, I need some air,” she announced, turning as she did to walk out of the apartment. She stopped just a few paces outside to lean on the outdoor railway. It gave her a view of the park bench across the street – Porter’s favorite hangout. She tried to ignore the thought and just took a deep breath, enjoying the chill of the late September air.

It was good to get out of that apartment; it was small, and dingy, and, in her mind, still belonged to Scylla. Abigail’s haughty behavior hadn’t been particularly calming, either. The whole situation made her uneasy. What, exactly, had she gotten herself into? What had she just volunteered to get _Byron_ into? Also, how was she ever going to approach a conversation like that? _Hi, Byron! Isn’t this world just the worst? Want to abandon this code school you paid tens of thousands of dollars for to join a shady terrorist organization I know nothing about to try to do something to fix it? What, that’s crazy? Oh, my bad! Have a nice day!_

The door opened behind her. A quick glance confirmed it was Tally. Soft, empathetic, perceptive Tally. She shouldn’t be surprised.

“Hey,” she said softly, coming to lean against the railway next to Raelle. She followed her gaze and looked out across the street. “It’s all pretty crazy, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

“Look, I know it’s a lot. But you just have to trust that you’re going to be a part of something bigger. Something good.”

“I haven’t seen anything of the Spree yet. And, I don’t know. Scylla’s left a bad taste in my mouth.” She glanced over at Tally at the comment, whose cheeks pinkened slightly. It took Raelle a second to realize why, but when she did, she couldn’t help but smile.

Tally cleared her throat. “That may be, but Scylla doesn’t represent the Spree as a whole. And you know what, I can level with you. I’m nervous too. Abigail hasn’t told me everything that’s going on, but shedid tell me that big things are happening very soon. Like, world-changing things.”

Raelle looked over hopefully. “Really? Like, how world-changing?”

“Like, the revolution may be afoot within the month,” Tally grinned. She turned around and leaned back into her elbows over the railing. “Like, if there was ever a time to abandon a doomed lifestyle and be a part of the revolution, it is right this minute.”

Raelle sighed. “That is encouraging. But I wish I knew more. I’m not really sure what to tell Byron otherwise. I mean, I’m asking him to abandon this code school when he’s almost halfway done and has already paid for the full term.”

“Well, you just agreed to do that.”

“Yeah, but I was already a radical. Him? I’m not so sure.”

“Yeah, but this code school is a lower-class entry point into lower-middle-class careers. And right now, pretty much everyone but the upper class is suffering. And it’s only going to get worse. It’s not like there’s that much of a future awaiting him. Which is obviously wrong, because he’s pretty brilliant.”

“No offense,” Tally quickly added when she saw Raelle’s scowl.

“Whatever. I’ll give it a try.”

They stood out there for a while, just looking out across the small town and marinating in their thoughts together. After a few minutes though, Raelle started to shiver in the breeze.

“Come on, Rae. Let’s go inside. I think we’re probably almost done here, anyway.”

Raelle nodded and followed Tally inside.

Tally was right; after just a little more conversation, Abigail sent Raelle back to her apartment. Tally hugged her on the way out, which was nice. Raelle drove back to her apartment at first, but she was feeling too antsy to just go inside and hang out.

So, instead, she pulled out her phone and called Byron.

“Hey, Raelle.” He sounded annoyed.

“Uh, hi. Want to hang out?”

“I have a… gentleman caller at the moment. Maybe this evening.”

“Oh, uh. Okay.”

“Alright. And please text next time.”

“Okay. Uh, bye.”

She brought the phone down from her ear and scowled at it. After a moment, though, she laughed. _Glad that he’s getting some_. Still too antsy to go home, she pulled out from the spot in front of her apartment and let herself think as she drove. She’d always found that concentrating on the road was just enough to let her mind relax and work smoothly.

She recalled the moment when Scylla admitted that she was a part of the Spree and described her suspicions about Bellweather. It had felt so sincere, so real. And it had been right after that – after a few intimacy-inspired orgasms, of course – that Raelle in turn told Scylla everything about what she’d done. At the time, it had felt like a huge development in their relationship; it was the first time they’d shared complete, unapologetic honesty. But now, with the revelation that Scylla had just been targeting her all that time, doubt and bitterness tarnished the memory.

Byron had been a good friend to her, especially during the last few weeks and her troubles with Scylla. He was honest, intelligent, and caring. He didn’t deserve to be hastily led into a dangerous situation. If there was a chance that drafting him into the Spree could ruin his life – without having a positive impact on the world – well, she couldn’t take that chance. She might not actually believe everything Scylla had said, but she couldn’t deny that it had left her with a nagging concern that she couldn’t completely dismiss. At least, not until she got to see more for herself.

Feeling as though she’d made a decision, she pulled over to text Byron and cancel meeting up for the night. He responded quickly.

_Byron: lol perfect. he’s staying the night so I was literally just about to cancel on you_

Raelle smiled. Feeling better, she drove home to make dinner and get some sleep.

“Good morning,” Abigail greeted.

“Mornin’,” Tally yawned in response. She shuffled over to the coffeepot, pouring herself a hefty serving. Abigail watched her with amusement.

“Pretty late start for you. Any, ahem, _luck_ , with Gerit?”

Tally glanced back with a blush. “Um, yeah. He wants to join the Spree. I’m going to work on Glory today.”

“For Glory’s sake, I hope you use the same tactics on her,” she teased. Tally’s blush deepened.

“How about you? Have you got the boys?”

“Yes, the merry trio will endure in the Spree. Although I didn’t have to make them fall in love to bring them in,” Abigail teased.

Tally ignored Abigail’s jibes. “What about Libba?”

“I’ll talk to her today. Shouldn’t be too difficult.”

Tally hummed in agreement and smirked lightly. “You two do seem to have a… special connection.”

Abigail fought down a blush and tried to act casual. “We sort of get each other. Her parents were just as intense as mine. Well, almost, at least. And she’s just as dedicated to radical change as we are. So, yeah, it makes sense.”

“Are you sure it’s not more than that?” Tally asked with a wag of her eyebrows.

“Shut up, Craven,” she laughed in response. “We should check in with Raelle, get an update on her recruitment situation.”

Tally nodded. “Should we get her on the phone? Saves her a trip.”

“Sure. Dial her up.” The two gathered around Tally’s phone as it rang with the speaker on.

Raelle answered on the fifth and final ring. “Hello?” she asked, her voice husky.

“Hi, Raelle!” Tally answered brightly. “Happy hump-day!”

Raelle and Abigail groaned in unison. “Sorry about that,” Abigail chuckled. “We just wanted to check in on how recruiting Byron is going.”

“Oh. Uh, well I talked to him yesterday. Gave him the whole spiel, like we talked about. But he really didn’t seem interested. I asked him anyways, but he said no. So, uh, I guess I won’t work in recruitment.”

“That’s okay,” Abigail said. “You tried. So, about tomorrow. You should come over here at 9 and then we’ll all leave for Portland together. Don’t be late.”

“Come over at 9, got it. Is that all?”

“Yes, that’s all. Bye now.”

“Bye,” Raelle muttered.

“God, I hate phone calls,” Abigail muttered as soon as the call was over. Tally smiled at her.

“The great and might Abigail is taken down by, of all things, phone calls?”

For what felt like the fifth time that morning, Abigail rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”

“Quad Americano. On ice.”

Abigail glanced over at Libba, mildly impressed, before stepping up to give her own order. “Grande soy macchiato.”

She didn’t miss the look that Libba sent her direction. “What?” she asked innocently. “I like my sweet little treats.”

Libba laughed. “Is that what you’d call Clive and Augustin?”

“I guess _you_ could call them that. I call them… a diversion.”

“I’ve been known to have a diversion or two myself,” Libba responded with a wink. Abigail’s heart fluttered.

“What do you say we take these drinks to-go, and go for a walk?”

“Sounds good to me.”

A few minutes later, the pair were walking along the riverfront trail with their drinks in hand.

“No way!” Abgail laughed. “Dropping a bomb on McConnell wouldn’t do the trick. He’d just retreat into his evil little turtle shell. It would have to be gas. There’s no hiding from gas.”

“Okay, alright,” Libba chuckled. “You may have a point. Man, what I wouldn’t give to throw that little turd out of power.”

“You wouldn’t have to give that much, actually.”

“Oh? And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Abigail stopped to turn towards Libba and grab her hand to stop her. “That I know a way for you to help make it happen.” For some reason, she didn’t let go of her hand even once she had Libba’s attention.

Libba looked down at their joined hands before looking back up with a curious expression on her face. “Go on.”

“I haven’t been completely honest with you. I’m not just at this code school to learn website development,” she began.

“Well, that explains your miserable scores,” Libba joked.

“Hey!” she protested. She stopped when she saw the smile in the shorter girl’s dark eyes. When she gave her hand a squeeze, she continued.

“I’m here on behalf of the Spree. We’re a group of people committed to the radical changes that need to be made to prevent catastrophic global collapses, to end economic tyranny, and to improve people’s lives the world over. A part of that mission involves cyber warfare, which is why we came here.”

“You’re trying to recruit me,” Libba said with a look of realization. Abigail nodded solemnly.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but this world… It’s dangerous. And I needed to know I could trust you.”

Libba smiled gently. “I’m in.”

“You… You’re in? Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Libba smiled, giving her hand another squeeze.

Abigail smiled, feeling the butterflies in her stomach flapping about with a newfound intensity. “Well then, I guess I’ll tell you a little more about us just for kicks.”

Raelle stepped out of her car with a grunt before looking around. It was a foggy, icy morning today. It hung around the Spree apartment in a cold shroud, so thick that she could only just make out the door from her parking spot. The scene reminded her of home with a sudden pang. She used to love the mornings when the fog lurked in the meadows and clung to the treetops. She’d especially loved when the sun would finally slice through it in golden rays, imbuing the whole scene with a radiance that felt magical. She and her father used to make a point of sitting on the front porch with coffee to watch the whole ordeal. He’d always call it “the witching hour,” even though most other folks considered that to be sometime in the middle of the night. He and her mother had always seen magic as a far cry from the dark, Satanic thing that most other people in their rural Appalachian community thought it to be. Instead, they’d seen it as something light, beautiful, and creative. Her mother always used to say it was magic that brought her and Raelle’s dad together. That it was magic that had given her Raelle, her greatest blessing. Bittersweet tears threatened to roll down her face, but she wiped them away before they could.

She hoped she’d get to see the witching hour on the drive up to Portland.

When she knocked on the door to the Spree apartment, Abigail answered it rather abruptly. The annoyance was coming off her in unmistakable waves that made the hackles on Raelle’s neck rise.

“Collar.”

“Bellweather.”

“Raelle!” Tally cried as she entered the living room.

“Hey, Tal,” Raelle smiled.

“You’re late.” Abigail reprimanded her.

“Sorry. Not much of a morning person.”

“My mother does not appreciate tardiness.”

“Well, now that she’s here, we can just leave now! And maybe speed a bit so that we can still get there on time,” Tally soothed, ever the peacemaker.

A few minutes later, the three had piled into their old junker of a car and were rattling up the interstate. Abigail had some kind of hard rock playlist on that Raelle found both jarring and strangely comforting. She’d felt like a walking hurricane of emotions for days now; it was only fitting that the music blaring through the speakers should imitate that. Even if it was a bit lacking in rhythm.

Tally was in the front seat, leaning her head against the window. Abigail was driving, her knuckles white on the wheel. That left Raelle in the back with room to stretch out and space for her thoughts. Not that she particularly wanted to think, though. Instead, she read the news on her phone and let the music block out everything else.

They were going to be late. Raelle the Shitbird Collar had made sure of that.

Abigail tightened her grip on the wheel and stepped on the gas a little harder. They weren’t far from their destination now. Though her mother initially said that they’d be meeting in Portland, she’d sent her an encrypted message this morning with coordinates that actually led to open land in Hillsboro. It was about an hour’s drive total, and they were less than ten minutes out. By now, they were weaving along country roads bordered by meadows, trees, and the occasional country house.

“Kind of looks like home,” Raelle muttered from the back. Abigail could barely make it out over the music, but she heard it all the same. She knew that their relationship wasn’t off to a great start, so she decided to try to take some initiative on improving it.

“Where are you from, by the way?” she asked. She turned her music down to make it easier to hear. She would need to do so soon, anyway. It wouldn’t do for her mother to hear her music blasting from the car as they approached.

“Virginia,” Raelle replied. “Just west of Roanoke.”

“So you _are_ from the South. Well, at least kind of.”

“How about you?”

“Massachusetts and Maryland.”

“How can you be from two places?”

“We summer in Maryland, by the water.”

“We summer where we winter,” Raelle responded gruffly.

“Well, that was before we left everything to join the Spree. My mom married rich. The family never accepted her, of course, the racist old-money fucks. But yeah, I sort of grew up in the east coast high society. Nothing I ever did was really good enough for them, though.”

“Doesn’t sound like you gave up all that much, then.”

Seeing the budding tension between her and their newest recruit, Tally stepped in. “I’m from California. You know, I actually grew up on a matrifocal compound. I’d never even seen a boy until I left to join the Spree.”

Raelle barked out a laugh. “So, the code school had to be a nice wake-up call, huh?”

“You could say that,” Tally responded with a blush.

They didn’t speak again until Abigail pulled the car over on a wide spot on the road. Across from them was a meadow with tall grasses ringed by old oak trees. The other side of the road was overgrown with maple and pine trees.

“This is it? I thought you said we were going to Portland,” Tally said. She sounded unimpressed.

“We were. I got new coordinates this morning. Pretty classic of my mom. She is all about cyber security.”

The three stepped out of the car and looked around.

“She gave me instructions to walk into the clearing. She said she’d be waiting for us.” After a glance at the two girls at her side, Abigail nodded and stepped forward.

The three crossed the road and climbed the small embankment into the meadow. It was pretty, Abigail decided. The grass was about hip high and dotted with the occasional shrub. As they walked, she took a closer look at the grasses and was pleasantly surprised to see that there were almost a dozen different varieties. The oaks that ringed the clearing were wide and majestic, sporting thick boughs that hung down and created pleasant little sheltered spaces. When she scanned the clearing for her mother, she was unsurprised to see her underneath one of those boughs. When she changed course to meet her, Tally and Raelle followed.

As they approached, she noticed that she was seated across from them at a foldout table loaded with food, plates, and napkins. Three empty chairs sat across from her on the other side of the table. But most surprising of all were the two people standing behind her with arms at the ready. They were dressed in all black, from their combat boots to the balaclavas covering their necks and faces. Abigail couldn’t help the chill that went down her spine at the sight.

“Welcome, welcome,” her mother boomed from her seat once they made it to the table. “I apologize for the accommodations, but as I’m sure my daughter told you, I am a strickler about security. Especially right now, as we stand on the cusp of revolution. Please, take a seat.”

Abigail took the middle seat and surveyed the food on the table. Catching her daughter’s eye, her mother laughed.

“I thought you might be hungry. After so much time on the per diem diet, and after your recent recruitment success, I thought I would treat you to some of Portland’s finest Mediterranean food.”

“So you _did_ go to Portland,” Tally interjected triumphantly. Petra just gave a coy smile in response.

“Yes, I did. It’s always better to kill two birds with one stone, I think.”

“Or feed two birds with one scone,” Tally replied, almost automatically. “Sorry,” she laughed. “That’s just what my mom always says. She’s not really one for violence.”

“Your mother sounds very wise. Violence is most unbecoming. Unfortunately, however, there are times when it is the only option.”

“That why you have those guards?” Raelle piped up, eyeing the two faceless shadows behind the table.

Petra just laughed again. “Yes, they are here for your and my protection. Like I said, we are on the cusp of greatness. Now, more than ever, it is vital that we stay on high alert. We cannot allow for the establishment to take us down before we’ve had a chance to do what must be done. But, before we get too ahead of ourselves, might not some introductions be in order?”

Abigail felt a flush of embarrassment over the obvious misstep. “My apologies, mother. This is Raelle, our newest recruit. And to my right here is Tally, the new recruit that you tasked me with training back at headquarters. Raelle, Tally, this is Commander Petra Bellweather.”

“Raelle, Tally, this is Commander Petra Bellweather,” Abigail finished. Her flourish ended on her mother. The note of pride in her voice didn’t escape Raelle.

“Pleased to meet you, Raelle. And it’s nice to see you again, Tally,” Bellweather nodded. “Now, please, help yourselves to this feast. We have hummus, tzatziki, baba ganoush, falafel, lamb, saffron rice, fresh naan, and tabouli. All fresh from this morning.”

“Really, Mom? Finger food?”

Petra smiled innocently. “Oh, come on. I know you love it.”

As Raelle watched the exchange, she found herself having a hard time believing Scylla’s accusations against Bellweather. _This_ was the shady figure she’d accused of orchestrating the deaths of a dozen of her friends?

“Everything okay, Raelle?” Petra asked, seeming to pick up on her tension.

“Oh, um. Yeah. I’ve just, well, I‘ve never really had anything like this before.”

“She’s from rural Virginia,” Abigail piped up.

“Well, then you’re in for a real treat. Just go ahead and dive in.”

“So, Mom, what’s the news with the Spree?” Abigail asked between bites of falafel.

Petra’s face darkened, albeit almost imperceptibly. She turned her head to the side, and the two guards standing beside her left. They each went different directions and began to circle the perimeter. Once they were out of earshot, Petra looked forward again with a tense smile.

“Well, quite a lot has changed in your absence. For example, our numbers have grown by almost three times.”

“Three times?” Tally spluttered.

“Yes. We sent out quite a few recruitment missions, and with great success. I would imagine that their efforts were aided rather significantly by the present turmoil in national politics. People are scared. At this point, they know that radical change is inevitable. The only question now is what kind of change.”

“That’s amazing,” Abigail said, awestruck. Even Raelle felt impressed.

“It has been inspiring to see. But that is not all. As I said before, we are on the cusp of radical change. One part of that has involved a rebranding. We were formerly known as the Spree. That has, well, violent connotations that can turn away people who would otherwise be in support of our cause. So, we will henceforth be known as the New Americans.”

“The New Americans?” Abigail repeated. “Doesn’t that sound sort of, I don’t know, far right?”

“It might, to some,” Petra conceded. “But to achieve the real change we need to see, we need to have a very broad base of support. It is not enough to only have environmentalists on our side. We need to have everyone, everyone who puts in the work every day to agree that they want to allow the status quo to continue. The New Americans calls to mind everything that we need to bring about the real, deep, and enduring change we need.”

“What does that mean? We’re working with the far right now?” Tally asked in surprise.

Petra leaned forward, clasping her hands in front of her. “Yes. Quite simply, Tally, it is time to lay old grievances to rest. There is no room for them in the world we wish to create.” Leaning back once again, she sighed. “We have entered into agreements with… certain groups on the condition that they follow a very strict set of community guidelines. Those guidelines, at their core, call for respect and civility towards all people. If they violate those guidelines, our alliance will be ended. It’s as simple as that.”

“What do you mean, certain groups?” Raelle asked, leaning forward.

“Groups whose shared grievances have been dismissed out of prejudice,” she responded quickly. “You’ll find that the base we’ve built is quite wide. For example, we’re recruited a large group of American veterans who are fed up with the fake politics and the corporate favoritism. We’ve also recruited labor groups, civil rights activists, and prison reformists. Our movement’s goals have broadened from mere environmental protection into something much bigger and much more important.”

“So, what are the new goals?” Tally asked, the hesitance clear on her face.

“Primarily, the devolution of control from global and national levels to local levels. This will be achieved through a number of other goals. For example, the demolition of the national stock exchange and a subsequent radical redistribution of wealth. Then, a weakening of the country’s transportation network and the overthrow of the US government. And the growth of a new national commitment to local control and national cooperation to replace national control and national coercion.”

Raelle’s mind raced with the information. Petra was talking about some big stuff, for sure. But she had no idea how it would all play out, or even if it would ultimately be for the better.

“What about the rest of the world?” Abigail asked.

Petra smiled. “Bright girl. We are working on that. After all, it would truly be a shame for us to liberate our country only to instate the next era of colonial development when some country across the world decides our resources are too valuable to be wasted on peace and harmony. I managed to tap some of my contacts from my Intelligence days to start on the work of building parallel movements across the world. Right now, we’re focused on Canada, Russia, China, and Germany. Most other nations we believe will crumble under the pressure.”

“What pressure?” Raelle asked.

Again, Petra smiled. “Unfortunately, I can’t tell you that just yet. We are so close to the fruition of our labor and I will not take any chances.”

“But _something_ really big is about to happen, isn’t it?” Tally asked. Her voice sounded small, but there was an undertone of excitement beneath it.

“Yes, dear. That’s exactly right.”

“So, what do we do?” Abigail asked, straightening in her seat.

“Excellent question. I think I’m going to keep the three of you together; it seems like you may be able to work well together. And it’s just as well, because what’s coming next requires a great many small teams. As you have surmised from our conversation, something very big and very disruptive is about to happen. When it does, it is imperative that sources of authority are discarded in the chaos. That will pave room for new sources of authority, and totally new ways of being along with them. Do you understand me?”

“So, like a guerilla propaganda unit?” Abigail asked.

“Yes, that’s exactly right,” Petra beamed. “I think I’m going to station you on the east coast. I think the west will take less pressure to change. And Raelle, this will be your time to shine.” Petra turned her gaze towards Raelle. It was intense. “By the way, I am honored to have you joining the team. I was quite impressed with your work, even when I was working with federal cybersecurity.”

Raelle couldn’t help but blush with simultaneous pride and embarrassment. She’d had no idea she was on the feds’ radar.

“Anyways, your unprecedented skill at getting past firewalls on low-grade tech and then rooting around for something interesting will make you an incredibly valuable asset to this team.” She finally broke her gaze with Raelle and turned to address Abigail and Tally. “Once Raelle has found information that will erode people’s trust in authority, it will be up to you two to distribute that information and make it meaningful to people. Posters, newsletters, memes, mass emails, stump speeches, whatever it takes. This will require cunning, rhetoric, and interpersonal skills. I am sure you two will be quite capable at it.”

The three shared a look as she paused. Abigail and Tally both looked excited, and Raelle couldn’t deny that she felt it too. Basically, she was just being asked to do what she did best a little more and with a support team this time. That didn’t sound too bad.

“Oh, and one more thing. Abigail, my daughter, has been trained in applied martial arts since she was just a little one. By now, she’s quite dangerous.” Mother and daughter beamed at each other. “Starting now, I would like for you to train your unit to fight as well as you do. There is no telling what kind of dangers you might run into during your deployment, and I would hate to lose any of you. Is that understood?”

Abigail nodded solemnly, and Tally squealed with excitement. Raelle just grit her teeth, already feeling the superiority Abigail would start wielding over them during training sessions. But, then again, she wouldn’t mind learning how to fight.

“Alright then. Are there any questions?” Petra clapped.

Before anyone could answer, though, two shots rang out. They sounded close – Raelle guessed no more than thirty feet away. Birds took off from their positions in the oaks all around them in an unsettling cacophony of shrieks. Raelle looked back towards the shots just in time to see a body collapse over a fallen log. Raelle sucked in a gasp when she belatedly recognized it as Porter _._ Not a moment later, someone – a woman with short dark hair – stood up from behind the log and began to run. Raelle’s heart stopped when she realized it was Scylla. It dropped through her stomach when she heard another shot ring out and watched her collapse to the forest floor like a sack of potatoes.

In a second, she was up from her chair and sprinting towards her. She barely noticed the screams ripping from her lungs, or the shouts calling for her to stop coming from all around her. Within seconds, she fell to her knees beside Scylla’s body. She was lying on her side, one of her arms stretched in front of her. Blood was blossoming from a hole in her lower back, just above her hip.

“Scylla,” Raelle whimpered, moving so that she was kneeling behind her head. “Hey, hey, stay with me,” she choked out.

Scylla looked up at her, face already pale from blood loss. “Rae,” she gasped in a hoarse whisper. She rolled slightly so that her head was resting against Raelle’s legs.

“I’m here, I’m here,” Raelle sobbed. She cradled her head in her hands, pushing her hair back out of her eyes. Summoning all her courage, she reached down to try to put pressure on the wound to try to stop the bleeding. Her heart broke at the gasp of pain it elicited. “I’m here, I’m here,” she repeated. Tears fell down her face, landing in Scylla’s hair.

“Rae,” Scylla repeated. When Raelle looked down at her, their eyes met. Those beautiful blue eyes, the subject of so many of Raelle’s dreams, were wide with terror. As she watched, though, they glazed over. The hand that Scylla had been reaching up to Raelle’s face went slack, falling limply against the leaves of the forest floor.

“Scylla,” Raelle said, panic hitting her voice. “No, Scylla, no! Stay with me, Scyll!”

But then strong hands had her by the armpits, dragging her away. She fought against the guards, screaming wildly, trying to get back to Scylla. She tried to see what was going on, but her vision was blurry from tears and shock. They threw her back and let her go to rush towards Scylla and Porter. She scrambled to her feet to follow, but before she could, Tally was there, stopping her with an embrace.

“She’s gone, Raelle,” she soothed. Raelle melted into her, clinging to her for support as her legs gave way underneath her.

“They shot her,” she sobbed into her chest.

“I know, I know. They say she’s here with the FBI. Raelle, we need to get out here _now_.”

The words registered dimly in her mind. At least, enough to give in and let Tally pick her up and start carrying her out. Tally rushed her over to the car, ushering her into the backseat. As soon as the door was closed, Abigail slammed on the gas and pulled out. The tired screeched against the pavement.

“What. The fuck.” Tally exclaimed after a few seconds.

“They shot Scylla,” Raelle murmured. “And Porter.”

“There wasn’t time. My mom just said to get you out of there. She said the feds had caught us,” Abigail rushed. Just then, she took a hard right turn onto another country road.

“What are you doing?” Tally cried.

“I’m trying to make us hard to find!” Abigail yelled. “I am _not_ going to federal prison.”

“Scylla’s with the FBI,” Raelle murmured.

“Looks that way,” Abigail said grimly. “But don’t worry. I’m getting us out of this. Hang on!” She took another hard left turn, sending everyone in the car to the right. After another thirty seconds, though, they were on the highway and back to the speed limit. “Okay. We’re headed back to Salem. We’re going to rent a van, and round up our new recruits. We’re going to take our time driving to Chicago, just to make sure we’re not being tailed. Once we’re there, we can regroup. I can’t be sure, but I think my mother made it out of there. That goon squad is former special ops, after all.”

“Oh, my god. This all just got really real,” Tally said.

“As real as it gets. Welcome to the Spree. I mean,” Abigail cleared her throat. “The New Americans.”

“There! They’re merging left. I think they’re going to take that exit,” Porter urged.

“Yes, I can see that,” Scylla grit through her teeth. She took the turn and followed the car. Unlike what they’d expected, they weren’t heading into Portland.

Scylla felt uneasy about the whole thing. The group had decided yesterday that it might be better for them to split up; one group to follow the elder Bellweather and her meetings, and another to follow the younger Bellweather on their way to meet with her mother. Anacostia had said it would help their odds of keeping eyes on Bellweather. And besides, Bellweather was likely to give the Salem recruits some idea of what to expect before they went back to headquarters. It could be useful information. Not only that, but they expected that Bellweather’s guard would be lower at this meeting; less of her operation was on the line. But they had also thought it would be somewhere out in the city, where there was more cover. She hadn’t expected for them to be out in the country like this.

Since it was supposedly less important and less dangerous, Anacostia had suggested it be left to Scylla and Porter. Libba, for her part, had jumped on the Alder bandwagon before Scylla had a chance to avoid the posting with Porter. So, here she was, finishing a nearly hour-long road trip with him.

“Where the hell are they going?” she muttered, mostly to herself.

“Definitely not Portland, that’s for sure,” Porter responded. Scylla sighed.

In the next few minutes, the Salem unit’s car weaved along country roads before pulling over seemingly in the middle of nowhere.

“That’s it, that’s our spot!” Porter exclaimed.

“Why don’t you pull up maps and see if there’s a backway that we can sneak in? We can’t let them see us.”

Porter soon directed her to a driveway nearby that bordered on the clearing they were headed to. They left their car next to a few houses and took off on foot, lugging with them one of the ancient listening devices Libba had managed to help them scrounge up. They made their way through the forest as quickly and as silently as they could. Porter kept an eye on the GPS to make sure they were headed on the right track. After going about 100 yards, their efforts were rewarded.

The clearing ahead of them was about 50 feet wide at its widest point. At the end opposite them was a table underneath an oak tree. Bellweather was there. Raelle, Abigail, and Tally sat across from her.

“Let’s stop here,” Porter whispered, hiding behind a big maple tree.

“No, we’re not close enough. Let’s set up behind that log,” she insisted in a harsh whisper. She gestured to an old, moss-covered log ten steps in front of them. At more than two feet high, it would provide them perfect cover. It would also give them a much better view of the table, which could give them better audio readings.

The two crept towards it, careful to move slowly. Scylla got there first and crouched down behind it. She glanced back at Porter, only two steps behind her. Nearly there. She focused on the sounds of the forest around her, trying to see if she could hear Bellweather talking with the naked ear. Libba had said that would be what it took for their junker listening equipment to do any good. She smiled when she realized that she could, in fact, hear their voices drifting across the meadow. Her heart fluttered when she heard what could only be Raelle making a remark.

The tranquility of the moment was utterly shattered by a rapid burst of gunfire. Scylla startled at the sound, her heart nearly jumping out of her chest. She looked back at Porter, this time in horror. Blood was spreading from his chest in two different spots – both close to his heart. She watched in breathless shock as he stumbled forward and collapsed limply over the log, right next to her.

Scylla knew she had only seconds to act. The shooters – whoever they were – would only get closer to her. Now was her only chance to escape. Without another thought, she stood and turned to run. She’d stay low and take an irregular path. Adrenaline coursed through her, her world narrowed to her escape. In a few seconds, though, she felt an abrupt impact on her lower back. She collapsed within a step, though she didn’t feel any pain. She pushed herself up on one arm and used the other to reach around and touch her back. When she brought her hand back to her face, she was surprised to see it slick with blood. A fire started to grow in her back, growing larger and hotter with each passing second. She gasped in pain and frustration as the fact that she’d been shot sunk in.

She tried to pull herself forward with her other arm, suppressing a scream of pain. But then, she heard it: Raelle. She was screaming. She lifted her head to look around. In pain as she was, she was worried for Raelle. Could she have been shot too?

After a few seconds, though, she saw that Raelle was running towards her. She fell to her knees next to her, pulling her upper body onto her lap.

“Scylla,” she whimpered. “Hey, hey, stay with me.”

Scylla wanted to stick around, even if only to listen to her voice. But she could feel herself drifting away. A distant part of her brain reminded her that the shock, pain, and blood loss would be likely to make her pass out. Another part reminded her that if she passed out now, she might never wake up. She tried to fight it, but it was like trying to fight off a heavy blanket that had descended over her mind.

“Rae,” she managed to get out. She fought to hold onto the image of her face above her, to fight the darkness on the edges of her vision. As terrible as it was, it was heartening to see that Raelle still cared about her. Still, the fog descending on her mind was only growing stronger with each passing second. It was getting harder and harder for her to fight it. She realized dimly that these might be the last moments of her life. She reached up to touch Raelle’s face, even if just for one last time.

“I’m here, I’m here,” Raelle sobbed above her.

“Rae,” Scylla said again. She put every ounce of effort she had into reaching up to the lovely face above her, but to no avail. The blanket dropped, and the world went dark.

The drive back to Salem was somber. Abigail hadn’t even put any music on, so it was just silent.

Raelle leaned her head against the glass of the backseat window, replaying the scenes of the last hour in her mind as silent tears fell from her eyes.

The shots.

The blood.

The light leaving Scylla’s eyes.

The only girl she’d ever loved was dead. She was sure of it. But, even worse than that, she’d betrayed her just before she died. She died working with the FBI, working to put her and the Spree behind bars.

Raelle had never felt so alone. Or confused. Or angry.

She watched the scenery pass her by with unfocused eyes, her mind elsewhere.

_Welcome to the New Americans._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🥺  
> I promise it will get better!   
> this fic is so much longer than I ever expected but there should only be a few chapters left until a happy ending! (and there will be a happy ending, don't you worry. just. eventually)


	12. headquarters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new recruits head to headquarters and get their assignments.

“I’m so nervous! But, like, good nervous! Excited nervous! I can’t believe I’m finally doing this. I mean, I’ve dreamed about doing something like this since high school! I feel, brave? Maybe not brave exactly. But I’m definitely afraid, and I’m doing it anyways, so I don’t know! Maybe it is brave! Oh my god, it’s just so MUCH! How about you Libba, are you feeling what I’m feeling?”

Libba glanced over to see Glory fixing her with an expectant look. To be truthful, she was not at all feeling what Glory was feeling. She was nervous, yes, but it wasn’t because she felt like she was finally doing something radical.

“Yeah, I guess,” was all she said. She returned to looking out the window of the 12-passenger van at the countryside rushing by. They were a little more than an hour into the drive, going through the steep, forested canyons of the Columbia River Gorge. Having grown up in Portland, Libba knew the facets of the Gorge well. Her family had often ventured out into its woody ravines staggering waterfalls when she was young. When she was a little older, she had occasionally come through here on the way to Mt. Hood to enjoy the snow. Driving along this highway had delivered her to so many of her best memories. It was a small comfort to see it once again zoom by while she fought to pretend she wasn't reeling from Porter's and Scylla's deaths the day before.

It had taken a while to learn what happened. Even still, they didn’t know some important details. After watching Bellweather’s meeting with the militia leaders, they’d followed her and her little posse out to her location where she was going to meet with her daughter, Tally, and Raelle. They’d taken up position behind them in the woods. They hadn’t been able to see what happened, but they had heard the shots. And the screams. Libba didn’t think she’d ever be able to forget the feral screams that must have come from Raelle when she saw Scylla get shot. Recalling it now left goosebumps on her arms.

After the commotion, they’d crept into the clearing to try to see what they could find out. As it turned out, it wasn’t much. Both Scylla’s and Porter’s bodies were gone, their car abandoned. From the twin trails of crushed grass leading from the blood they found on a log, they must have been dragged out. It made sense; they couldn’t just leave dead bodies there and expect to get away with it.

Libba ran a nervous hand through her hair. She’d never had anyone close to her die before. Not that she and Porter or even Scylla were close. But still – damn. It could just as well have been her out there. It could be her body being hacked into pieces and thrown into the Columbia River right now. The thought made her look down at the water racing by her window with an uncomfortable and newfound dread.

With a groan, she pulled herself away from the window. These were not thoughts she could afford to let herself drown in. Nor was this the time to be acting like someone in grief. Tally, Raelle, and Abigail were all in this van with her. If they saw her acting like two of her friends had just died, that would raise some obvious suspicions. If she didn’t want to share Scylla’s and Porter’s fates, she needed to pull herself together and get on the same page as the other recruits around her.

After taking a deep breath to steady herself, she looked around the van. Tally and Abigail were in the front seats. Raelle was just behind them in the front row left passenger seat, looking out the window just as Libba had been. Glory sat to Libba’s right, and Clive, Augustin, and Gerit were sharing the spacious back row. They three of them had mostly been laughing and joking so far.

Glory was… a lot. But, right now, it looked like she was her best option for socializing. Maybe interacting with her bubbliness would help drag her up from the morose pit she’d let herself wallow in for the last hour.

She turned to the dark-haired girl next to her, forcing a smile. “Hey. I’m sorry I haven’t been much fun to talk to. I’m kind of in a… funk.”

Glory smiled sweetly. “Don’t even worry about it. This is, like, an insane situation. I don’t think there’s any right way to act.”

Libba smiled. “Thank you, I appreciate that. I am pretty nervous, and I guess sometimes when I’m nervous, I get mopey. But conversation can help me, if I let it. So, with that in mind, why did you decide to join the Spree?”

“The New Americans,” Glory reminded her.

“Oh, right. The New Americans. I just heard Abigail call it the Spree for a while, I guess I just got used to that,” she lied.

“Don’t even worry about it. I’m sure I’ll mess it up a few times, too,” Glory reassured her. “But, to answer your question, I think it was a lot of things. I mean, I’m the oldest of seven kids. Growing up, we hardly _ever_ had enough money. But then, when I was in middle school I think, my dad got sick. We didn’t have health insurance, so he couldn’t go see a doctor. It got worse, and he got fired from his job because of it. My mom started taking on debt to pay the bills, but it couldn’t last long. We eventually lost our home and had to move in with my grandparents. It was, um, it was tough.” Glory swallowed thickly. “Once my grandparents stepped in, they were finally able to convince my dad to go see a doctor. Once we did, we realized that his illness was probably connected to all the work in construction he did. Silicosis, they called it. From silica particles. He’d been working for this huge construction company, so we thought maybe we could try to sue them for his healthcare. I mean, there was just no way we’d be able to pay it down otherwise. But we never stood a chance. They tore us to shreds and left us with a heap more debt in legal fees than we started out with. So yeah, I guess that’s why I’m here. I just wish my dad could have gotten treatment and my brothers and sisters could have stayed in their apartment and gone to school like normal. And avoided, like, hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt.”

Libba nodded. “Shit’s fucked.”

Glory laughed and wiped one of her eyes. “Yeah. Shit’s fucked.” After a moment, she looked back up at Libba. “So, why are you here?”

“Stories like those,” she answered without thinking. “I mean, I didn’t have to go through anything like that myself. But I know plenty of people who have and it’s just wrong. I’ve sort of been an activist about stuff like this for the last four years or so. Wealth inequality, health care, environmental racism, and now climate change too. But that shit is just _not working_ , and I’m tired of it. I feel like we need to take more direct action if we really want anything to change.”

Glory nodded. “Yeah. When I was younger, I used to believe in the legal system. And that if things were bad, there were ways to fix them. And that the system, on the whole, was just. But after that lawsuit with my dad? No way. It really opened up my eyes. The justice system here, it really only works for some people. It’s like, a fake tool, a lie that they can use to give people the illusion of power against all the bad things that the system can do to them.”

Libba nodded. “Yeah. Exactly. Girl, you are speaking my language,” she laughed, elbowing Glory lightly in the ribs.

“Maybe the New Americans won’t be so bad after all,” the other girl giggled.

“Maybe not,” Libba agreed with a forced smile.

Tally turned around in her seat to look at everyone behind her. “We made it!” she squealed gleefully. The van broke out into cheers.

It had been a long two days of solid driving, and everyone was excited to get out of the van for good. They’d camped in Wyoming at the halfway point the night before. Though it had been a chilly night, they were pleasantly surprised by the scenery they found themselves in once the sun had come up. They’d stayed in relatively good spirits throughout the long drive through the plains, even getting into some whole-car games. They’d finished out the last, tantalizing few hours of the drive by going through people’s music recommendations – favorite songs, favorite artists, best albums. It had helped pass the time, and maybe even resulted in some bonding. Overall, not the worst road trip ever. Certainly better than the one Tally, Abigail, and Scylla had shared on their way out to Fort Salem Code School all those months ago. Looking back at it was strange; it almost felt like a different lifetime.

Tally shivered at the thought of Scylla. She’d done her best to avoid thinking about it – that was not the kind of mental energy she needed to be projecting with a van full of new recruits who were anxious to start a major new chapter in their lives. Maybe after they got acquainted with headquarters, she could find some time to process everything that happened.

As everyone piled out of the van, she caught a glimpse of Raelle. She looked sickly. She’d been quiet and morose the whole trip; clearly, she hadn’t shared Tally’s concern for the new recruits’ morale. But, then again, she’d watched the girl she love die in her arms. Plus, she’d only been with the Spree for a few days. Either way, Tally really couldn’t expect much more from her. The fact that she was still here at all was impressive.

“Alright, listen up, everybody!” Abigail called, getting everyone’s attention. “We are about to enter the New American headquarters.” She paused to let the ripples of excited murmurs drift through the small crowd. “Once we walk through those doors, I want everyone on their best behavior. Be alert, and listen. I’m not sure what we’re going to see in there, but you’re about to make your first impression. Make it a good one.” She smiled. “Now, has everyone got all of their luggage, and everything they brought in the van?” When everyone nodded, she turned towards the door behind her. “Onward, troops!”

Tally couldn’t help but smile. Somehow, Abigail seemed to be handling this very well. After the whole incident with Scylla, she’d definitely taken some things down a notch. It must have humbled her to realize that she’d had a hostile agent under her nose this whole time. Watching people actually die in front of her might have also put some things in perspective for her. Seeing the way she’d interacted with the recruits the past two days, Tally thought it was a good change.

When they walked through the door, they were met with the inside of a small warehouse building. The floors were a glossy, mottled gray, stained with the industrial activities of years past. Thick metal beams ran all the way from the walls to the belly of a corrugated metal roof, giving the warehouse the look of an upturned industrial ribcage. The floorplan was divided by a series of what looked like massive shower curtains in a grid pattern. The quadrant they’d just walked into looked like an entry space and was mostly barren. The quadrant to their right, though, visible because its divider was pulled aside, looked like a landing place for incoming groups like theirs. Cots were laid out in neat rows, and some luggage was pushed up against the nearby wall. The group looked around, taking it all in. If Tally listened closely, she could just barely make out the babble of distant conversation.

“Hello?” she asked, projecting her voice enough to make it carry across the warehouse floor.

Just under a minute later, a head popped out from underneath one of the divider sheets in front of them.

“Oh, hello!” her cheery voice greeted them. “You must be the Bellweather unit. It is such a pleasure to meet you all. My name is Berryessa, and it’s my job to get you settled and matched up with the jobs that we need filled. First things first, let’s get you to your beds!”

Berryessa led them into the adjoining space and directed them to choose a cot and set down their luggage. Once she was satisfied that they had, she led them to the bathrooms. It was a rather modest set-up; two shared sinks, two closed-stall toilets, and two makeshift showers with makeshift curtains. After she’d made everyone that could use the restroom, she led the group into the “mess hall.” In reality, it was just another quadrant enclosed by sheets with two fold-out tables of food and a smattering of empty folding tables and chairs for eating. The food tables had bread, bagels, tortillas, some condiments, and a seemingly random selection of canned foods and can openers. At the other end of the quadrant was a dish station, with tubs of dirty and clean water. Berryessa explained that while they were there, they were responsible for their own dishes and for returning them to the front of the line after using them. They shared a brief lunch before continuing on.

“Alright. Now, time for the big reveal. I present to you, headquarters!” With a dramatic flourish, she pulled the sheet back to reveal a dozen or so people at computer workstations behind her. “I know, it doesn’t look like much. But this is truly where some of the most important work gets done. Logistics, as any leader will tell you, are truly what make or break an operation. These people right here are responsible for making all of that line up. They cross the t’s and dot the I’s, so to speak.”

Abigail smirked. “But this isn’t where the decision get made.”

Berryessa hid her annoyance poorly with a smile. “Yes, that’s true. That would be in the command room. But, you are not to enter the command room unless explicitly invited. Quite a lot of sensitive information passes through there and for everyone’s safety, it is best that you never know any more than exactly what you need to.”

“Why’s that?” Clive piped up.

“Because, young man, there are quite a lot of moving parts in this operation. And, increasingly, quite a lot of pressure from law enforcement. If they were ever to capture an operative, and that operative knew and divulged more than what was strictly relevant to their work, they could bring everyone, all of this, toppling down on all of our heads.”

Clive looked like he had more to say, but he just nodded and shared a look with Augustin.

“Alright. Now, before I start working with you all one-on-one, I’ve got just a basic intake survey that I’d like for you all to fill out. This will just help you get the juices flowing, and give me a bit of an idea where to take you.” She picked up a stack of papers beside her and moved to begin handing them out. Before she did, though, she threw up her hands.

“Ah, there I go, getting ahead of myself again! Alright, so here’s the deal. The New Americans are split into four basic divisions: administration, recruitment, field work, and intelligence. Administration involves some of the logistical work you see behind me here, which requires attention to detail, consistency, and preferably some bureaucratic literacy. Administration is also where some of the bigger leadership roles are, if that’s something that might interest you down the road. Recruitment is pretty self-explanatory. It’s important that this movement continue to grow, and our recruiters make sure that happens. Recruiters need to have strong interpersonal skills and a real passion for what we’re doing here. Field work involves all of the hands-on work of this operation. These days, that can be anything from guerilla marketing campaigns to blowing up supply lines. Field operatives need to be sharp, driven, and able to handle a lot of pressure. It’s also preferable that they have some background in physical endeavors, or at least a willingness to get better at them. And finally, we have intelligence. I think this is our fastest-growing division, and where I suspect many of you will land. Intelligence involves, well, gathering intelligence. Much of this is through the digital sphere, using digital surveillance and hacking into communication networks. However, some of this work does also overlap with field work, as it involves physically installing or monitoring intelligence-gathering devices. Intelligence operatives need to have some kind of background in tech, preferably some coding experience. Or, if not, they need to have the stamina to sift through piles of data to find the pieces that may be life-or-death for our operations.

“Well, alrighty then! That sure was a lot of information. Now, let’s get you those forms. You three, come with me. You’ve already gotten a special assignment from Commander Bellweather herself.” Berryessa nodded to Abigail, Raelle, and Tally.

With a pang, Tally wished Scylla was there so they could share a covert look at the summons. She buried the feeling before it could fester, though, and followed Berryessa.

Raelle, Abigail, and Tally followed Berryessa to the corner of the sheets and pushed their way past into the command room Berryessa had indicated earlier. Petra Bellweather stood behind a series of panels, an open file in her hands. At Berryessa’s beckoning, she closed it and turned to greet the group.

“Ah, the Bellweather unit,” she smiled. Raelle bristled at the moniker but stayed silent. From the side of her vision, she saw Abigail stand a little taller. “Nice to see you again. I hope your travels were uneventful?”

“Completely boring,” her daughter confirmed with a smirk.

“Glad to hear it. Now, are you ready to hear more about your assignments?”

“Yes,” Tally and Abigail chorused simultaneously. When they looked her direction, Raelle just nodded blankly.

Bellweather beckoned them towards an empty table, lying out the folder in her hands. She laid out a series of profiles on the table. Raelle recognized only one – Mitch McConnell. But a quick glance at the profiles of the others confirmed her suspicion; all were members of Congress.

“I believe you three are going to be my crack team out there, so I’ve assigned you to the most powerful targets of them all. I’m sending you to D.C. to work on the Speaker of the House, the Senate Majority and Minority leaders, the whips, et cetera. This is just the beginning. Once you work through these, I’ll send you more.”

“D.C.? What will be our accommodations?” Abigail asked excitedly.

Bellweather smiled down at her daughter. “Remember Dusty?” Abigail’s eyes lit up. “He’s offered up his penthouse for the cause. It’ll be yours until you’re done.”

Raelle felt her own eyes widen at the suggestion. _A penthouse in D.C.?_

“You’ll drive out tomorrow. You’ll get a car from the fleet to take you there. Now, any questions before I return to my other work here?”

“Yes, actually, just one,” Raelle finally spoke up. “Will I be getting any kind of equipment?”

“Of course. When you get to D.C., call this number.” She pointed to a number on a sticky note on the inside cover of the manila folder. “The address to the penthouse is here, too. Anything else?”

Bellweather smiled at the silence that followed. “Congratulations on your good assignment and hard work. Enjoy your rest day, and I wish you a safe drive tomorrow.” Finished, she nodded at Berryessa to take the unit away.

“Actually, there is one more thing,” Abigail spoke up. Her mother turned back, a curious expression on her face.

“I’d like to request that Libba Swythe be added to our unit. I believe she is another talented coder, and that she would be a valuable addition to our team.”

Bellweather paused for a tense moment before finally answering. “I’ll consider it. You go ahead and enjoy your night off.”

Abigail nodded and turned around. Still too emotionally drained to put up much of a fight to anything, Raelle followed her without another word.

Once they were out of the command center, she headed straight for her cot.

“Hey, where ya’ going?” Tally asked after her.

“I need a fucking nap.”

_Raelle sat on the edge of a monstrously large cliff, her feet dangling down its face. The sun was going down before her, casting magnificent shadows along the forested hills below her. After a moment, she realized she wasn’t alone._

_Scylla sat to her right, her feet swaying gently. When Raelle looked over at her in awe, she just smiled. When she spoke, it sounded like the whisper of a breeze in the grasses._

_“Rousing speech, wouldn’t you say?”_

_“I hear he does graduations,” Raelle responded automatically. She didn’t really say the words so much as watch herself say them, unable to stop herself. Those were the first words they had ever said to each other._

_Her heart swelled suddenly with love and an insatiable longing. She leaned forward to kiss her, to feel those soft lips against hers once again. Before she could, though, Scylla was gone. When she looked around, she saw that she’d moved. She was standing behind her now, reaching out to her and looking broken._

_“I love you,” Scylla whispered in a broken voice._

_Raelle rushed towards her, her hand outstretched. “I love you too –”_

_But she moved towards her, she crumpled into her arms. Raelle barely caught her in time to keep them both from falling over the cliff’s. As it was, they were teetering on the edge. Still, she reached down to touch Scylla’s stomach, only for her hand to come away dark with blood._

_“Rae,” Scylla whispered hoarsely, eyes looking up desperately into hers._

_“I’m here, I’m here,” she replied. She felt like screaming – there were so many things that she wanted to say. But the words wouldn’t come out. It was like she was trapped in her own body._

_“Rae,” Scylla croaked again. Her eyes began to glaze over and Raelle felt her heart breaking all over again. They were falling now, hurtling towards the abyss._

_“No, Scylla, no! Stay with me, Scyll! NO!!!”_

Raelle awoke with a jolt. Tally was hovering over her with a concerned expression, her hand gripping her shoulder. She sat up slowly, her heart hammering in her chest.

“You were screaming. You’re okay, it was just a dream.”

Raelle raised her hands in front of her face. They were trembling. She took a deep breath, remembering where she was and the events of the past few days. Her chest heaved with a sob as she remembered that what she’d just dreamt hadn’t been a figment of her imagination. None of it was.

Tally pulled her into an embrace, rocking her gently as she sobbed into her chest. Raelle gripped her shoulders, clinging to safety as waves of brutal emotion crashed over her.

“I know. I know,” Tally cooed, rubbing a soothing hand along her back. “I know, it hurts. I miss her too.” It sounded like Tally was holding back tears herself. They stayed like that for a while, comforting each other in their grief.

Eventually, Raelle pulled back and wiped her eyes. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Nothing to apologize for,” Tally gently reassured.

“How about some air, huh?”

A few minutes later, they were sitting on the curb outside the building underneath an old willow tree. The light had long faded from the sky, leaving only the dull glow of the city’s lights reflected in the low-hanging clouds. Neither of them said anything. They just sat there, lost in their own heads together.

Abigail sat at the edge of her cot, twiddling her thumbs. She’d come over to the bedroom area when she’d heard Raelle screaming, but Tally had seemed to have it under control so she’d hung back when they left. She couldn’t blame Raelle for screaming the way she had; after all, she’d seen something truly horrific only two days ago.

After a while, Libba came by and took a seat on the cot across from her.

“Hey, you doing okay?” she asked tentatively.

Abigail looked up and nodded halfheartedly. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Something on your mind?” Libba probed.

She heaved a dramatic sigh. “It’s just…. I don’t know. Suddenly, this is all feeling very real.”

Libba nodded and moved to sit next to Abigail on the same cot. “Yeah. I think I know what you mean,” she almost whispered, bumping their shoulders together gently. “So, there anything to do for fun around here?”

“Not really,” Abigail laughed humorlessly. “We’re in Chicago’s industrial suburbs out here. There are some neighborhoods, some strip malls, and a lot of private property. I heard that the kids out here just go driving around for fun at night.”

“Oh, so like most of America.”

“Pretty much.”

“Well, there’s always just walking,” Libba suggested. When she stood up and offered her a hand, Abigail took it.

“What the hell. Beats just sitting around here, moping.”

“What is there to mope about? You just brought a big batch of new recruits back to headquarters. Shouldn’t this feel like a win for you?”

“Remember Scylla?” When Libba nodded, Abigail continued. “Well, it turns out she was working for the feds and tried to catch us up in some sort of sting. We made it out, but, uh. She didn’t.”

Libba just looked at her with wide eyes.

“What?” Abigail asked.

“You mean the feds got that close to you?” she responded after a few moments. “How did you get out of there, if it was a sting? There must have been dozens of them.”

She just shook her head. “No. As far as I know, it was just the two. Both were former operatives long suspected of working in tandem with law enforcement. I don’t know, that wasn’t that much of a surprise.”

“Huh,” was all Libba said.

Libba ended up walking and talking with Abigail for almost three hours. Though she’d initially only meant to use it as a way to learn more about what happened with Scylla and Porter, they’d just kept on talking and talking. Libba had missed a connection like this; in the four months since she’d joined the Spree, this was the first time she really felt like she had a friend. She’d been theoretically alright with the isolation this work would bring when she signed up for this, but she’d underestimated just how hard it would be to lose the open, earnest, close relationships she’d come to know and love in her youth.

Even though she knew there were things she couldn’t share with Abi (obviously), she somehow still found it easy to be open with her. She liked the way they got each other’s humor, how they could keep jokes going almost endlessly. She liked the way they’d square up with each other, effortlessly elevating each other’s energy. She liked the way Abi would sometimes get shy and look away, only to finally look back up at her with hooded eyes. Libba was still unsure how Abi was able to manage that, given that she was a full head taller than her. Her heart clenched at the thought.

Libba stopped mid-step, bringing her hands to her face as she made an important realization.

“Goddamnit,” she whispered to herself.

There could be no more denying it – she had a crush on Abigail Bellweather. A big one, too.

Looking back, she shouldn’t have been surprised. Libba had been involved in plenty of relationships with guys over the years, but few of them had gone much farther than friendship with a physical component. She’d had one, enormous, powerful crush, though. The captain of her high school’s soccer team, Ella, her adversary for years. That girl had jumped all over every nerve Libba had and made a point to pit their friend groups against each other. But then, in their junior year, they were forced to do a group project together. When Ella had complimented Libba’s intelligence and looked down with shy eyes, Libba had _finally_ realized that much of her animosity towards the other girl actually originated in a deep attraction to her. Though she never acted on that realization, she spent the next year and a half totally lost and confused by her mega-crush. In the end, it had at least helped her come out.

Given her history, Libba really should have seen a similar thing coming with Abigail. They were both incredibly competitive, so every time they’d seen each other had been some kind of sparring match. More than that, though, Abigail was the subject of her subterfuge and the daughter of her dangerous enemy. Of _course_ she now had a stupid, huge, heart-melting crush on her.

“Goddamnit,” she whispered again, resuming her careful steps to the command center. She didn’t have time to process all of _that_ right now. She had a terrorist organization to infiltrate. She shook her head and focused on the task at hand.

She’d gone to bed a few hours ago, waiting for the distant sounds of activity in the warehouse to die down and for the people around her to fall asleep. Once she was certain the coast was clear, she’d crept out of her cot in nothing but her sleeping clothes and socks. If someone caught her, she could just say that she’d gotten disoriented, had terrible night vision, and was looking for the bathroom. It seemed like a decent enough excuse.

She headed straight to the corners of the sheets to try to take as direct a path to the command center as possible. Once there, she moved towards one of the computers at the edge of the quadrant.

Without too much trouble, she found what she was looking for – a master file for Project Atum on the shared network. She began clicking through it, scanning through documents as quickly as she could. After just a few minutes, though, she heard footsteps approaching behind her. She kicked into high gear, closing everything on the computer and hastily turning it off.

She had just stood from the chair in front of the computer when a voice cut through the darkness. She shivered with dread when she realized that she recognized that voice.

“Commander Bellweather,” Libba said sleepily, turning towards the source of the sound.

“Libba,” the Commander greeted. Libba waited for her to say something more, but she just continued her steady approach towards her.

“I, uh, I just got lost in the dark. I sleepwalk sometimes, and didn’t really know where I was when I woke up.”

Bellweather continued until she was standing directly over her. “I take it you’re an active sleeper?”

Libba chuckled nervously. “Especially in unfamiliar situations, like waking up in a dark warehouse with practically no sense of direction.”

The silence that ensued made Libba’s skin crawl. Finally, though, Bellweather relented and said something.

“Did you find anything of interest in the Command room?”

Libba’s heart dropped. “What do you mean? I –”

“Do not take me for a fool. I heard you typing when I walked in here. What were you doing, going through our files?”

 _Go for broke_ , Libba thought to herself. She let out a dramatic sigh, bringing a hand to her head. “Okay, okay. You caught me. The truth is, I hate being kept in the dark. Like, truly abhor it. You can even look that up about me – it’s a verifiable fact. It’s why I got into hacking at all. I started as an activist, but I couldn’t stand how much the authorities were always holding back. Anyways, I just joined your organization and right now, I have almost no idea what you guys actually _do_. So, if I’m going to be laying my future, and maybe even my _life_ , on the line for you guys, I just want a better idea of what exactly I’m getting myself into. I mean, for all I know, this could just be just a really elaborate means of recruiting people into a black-market sex slavery deal or something. How the hell should I know?” Libba finished the tirade in an excited babble and had to take a deep breath to steady herself. She looked up at Bellweather to see if there was a chance her Hail Mary might have actually landed. Unfortunately, it was too dark to make out much more than the outline of her face.

“I understand your concerns. However, I ask that you be more conscientious of the community guidelines we have set. You will receive your assignment tomorrow, and you will know much more then. Over your time in the organization, you will also get to know other operatives and get an idea of what we do here through them. But until then, you must be patient and keep a little faith. Understood?”

Libba nodded breathlessly. _It worked!_

“Get along to bed now,” Bellweather finished. Libba nodded and turned to leave quickly. She couldn’t wait to get out of Bellweather’s presence; standing next to the woman felt like standing next to a power line. It set her hairs on end. Before she could get away, though, Bellweather called to her.

“Oh, and Libba?”

Libba turned around.

“I’ve got my eye on you. If you do something like this again, there will be consequences.”

Libba nodded. As she did, she seriously wondered whether Bellweather might have been able to see that she had with cat-like night vision. It didn’t seem out of the question for her.

As she walked back to her cot, Libba ran her hands along her arms to try to tamp down the goosebumps that had arisen at that last, ominous warning. She’d have to be more careful next time.

When she finally took her place on her cot, across from Abigail’s, Libba wondered just how much the two women shared. Certainly appearance, names, and attitude. But how deep did the resemblance go? The elder Bellweather was more than comfortable with murder, lying, and power plays. She was, undoubtedly, the kind of person that one should never truly let themselves trust. But Abigail? Though her ambition and fierce competitive spirit certainly bore some resemblance to her mother’s, Libba couldn’t help but feel that Abigail wasn’t dangerous. How else could she feel so safe lying next to her cot right now?

Libba pulled her blanket up to her chin, watching the gentle rising and falling of Abigail’s sleeping chest. She let herself worry a while longer before her lids grew heavy. When sleep finally came for her, she welcomed its embrace.

Scylla awoke with a jolt. The first thing she noticed were the blinding white lights glaring directly into her eyes. The second thing she noticed was the throbbing ache in her lower right stomach and back. The third, and most concerning, thing she noticed was that both of her hands were cuffed to the metal bars of the gurney she lay on.

She struggled weakly with the cuffs, trying to see if there was any way she could slip them off to free her hands. The metallic clanking must have alerted someone, because in a few moments she heard the unmistakable crescendo of approaching footsteps. She instantly stilled herself, closing her eyes and laying back. She wanted to know more before she let her captors know that she was awake and cognizant.

The door opened and someone came to her side. She studiously kept her eyes closed as they checked her pulse. When they pulled her eyelids apart to shine a penlight in them, she did her best to keep her eyes from focusing. After another second, though, they poked her wound. Her hands instinctively fought against their restraints to reach them as she doubled over in pain, releasing a shuddering breath. Realizing that she’d been caught playing dead, she opened her eyes to size up whoever had just poked her gunshot wound.

“I knew you were awake,” they muttered. They were a woman, with black hair pulled back into a severe bun. Her dark eyes, settled above a sharp, narrow, nose, glinted with intelligence.

“Fuck you,” Scylla gasped, leaning back as the pain subsided.

The woman smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “In the future, don’t do that. I can tell when you’re faking, and that’s not behavior I appreciate.” There was a barely-noticeable lilt to her words.

“What are you, some kind of doctor or something?”

“Yes, or, I was. Right now, though, it’s my job to keep you healthy for questioning.” She looked down at the clipboard in her hand and jotted down some notes.

Scylla pushed her head back into her pillow as the events that led to her situation came rushing back to her. Creeping through the woods. Gunshots. Raelle. Darkness. Unfortunately, though, her memories ended there. She had no idea where she was, when she was, or even who was holding her. She had a guess at the last one, but nothing specific.

“Are you with the Spree?”

“Formerly known as the Spree, now the New Americans,” the doctor corrected. Scylla laughed humorlessly, although she stopped quickly at the pain that shot up along her back. She looked around, trying to get a read on the room around her. Honestly, it sort of looked like a refurbished storage closet. The walls were dark and ringed with storage shelves stacked with cleaning solutions and equipment. She herself was wearing a white hospital gown with a cheap fleece blanket pulled up to her waist. For being an old storage closet, the room was horribly well-lit. She squinted against the glare of the fluorescents above her, stifling her growing frustration.

“Why is it so goddamn bright in here? And where am I?”

“The medications you’re on are making you sensitive to the light,” she responded, continuing to scribble on her clipboard.

“What’s your name?” Scylla asked, hoping to try a different tack.

The doctor finally looked up at her. “Izadora. Someone will be seeing you shortly,” she replied crisply. Without another word, she walked out the door.

“Can you at least turn off the lights if you’re going to leave me here?” Scylla called after her. Her plea was answered only by the fading sound of footsteps as Izadora walked away.

“Good fucking morning,” Scylla grunted to herself. It looked like her ordeal was just about to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> told you she'd be okay :)
> 
> idk if y'all noticed this but I ship Libba and Abigail. they seem like they should get each other, and I'm bummed out that the show didn't give them a chance to explore that more.


	13. poli-dicks as usual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Bellweather Unit and a few other familiar faces head to D.C. to start working on exposing Congressional leaders. Libba makes an important decision.

“Where are your comrades?”

“Did you check Moscow?” Scylla tossed back in a thick Russian accent. She was impressed with herself: it sounded good. And with no practice, either.

Bridey was less impressed. She just sneered and pressed into Scylla’s gunshot wound. She tried hard not to cry out, but she couldn’t help the silent tears of pain that fell from her eyes. She fell back against her pillow with a deep breath and sniffle.

“God, I am so sick of being interrogated by a _pirate_!” Scylla seethed, snapping her cuffs against the rails of her gurney.

“What did you just call me?” Bridey rounded on her.

“Oh, please don’t tell me you’ve never heard that before. I mean, come on. An eyepatch? Really?”

“I lost my eye in combat,” her interrogator practically growled.

“With what, a cat?”

Bridey pressed into her wound again. Scylla locked her jaw and sucked air through her teeth, fighting hard to not cry out.

“Harder, daddy,” she gasped as Bridey began to relent. The look of confusion and horror it evoked on her interrogator’s battle-hardened features was enough to send her into a full-throated laugh. It petered out to a painful cough soon enough, though.

“I fucking hate teenagers,” Bridey muttered sullenly. She turned to leave, signaling the end to their evening chat – the fifth of the day. Scylla hoped it would be the last.

“Hey, I’m 21 and a half!” Scylla shouted to her back.

Once Bridey was well and truly gone, Scylla allowed her careful composure to fall. She let her head fall back against the pillow and winced at the fiery pain that was radiating out through her entire stomach and back. When she’d woken up, it had been merely achy. But, thanks to Bridey’s continued pirate interrogations, it was as painful as it had ever been. She idly wondered how long it would take to heal if they kept poking at it like this. It really made their job of torturing her easy – no tools required.

This was just their first day of trying to get answers out of her. Only time would tell the lengths they would go to if she continued to withhold what she knew. Dread pooled deep in her stomach. Somehow, it made the pain even worse. Another tear slipped down her cheek. She wanted to wipe it away, but with her hands cuffed that wasn’t an option. She looked down at her wrists, red and angry from all the pulling against them she’d done as Bridey tortured her.

The pain from Bridey’s ministrations was formidable, but Scylla could take it. What she didn’t know she could take, though, was this feeling of helplessness. Chained to this gurney, the entirety of her life was in the hands of her captors. She couldn’t eat, drink, or use the restroom without their assistance. She couldn’t even wipe a measly tear from her cheeks. That helplessness, that utter, humiliating lack of control, had already begun to eat at her identity as her pride shriveled away in this godforsaken storage closet-turned-torture-chamber.

Even if she managed to avoid giving up the Spree _and_ somehow survive this whole ordeal, she didn’t want to think about the person that might emerge on the other side.

Desperate for distraction, her thoughts turned to a familiar relief. Though it hurt, it was at least an entirely different pain. There was still a quiet, bittersweet joy in recalling Raelle’s smiling blue eyes, or the taste of her lips, or the complete contentment she’d felt when their bodies wrapped around each other.

Raelle may have been the love of her life, her one great shot at happiness in the miserable landscape of reality. The wound in her chest, the one that had nothing to do with a bullet, throbbed at the thought. If she somehow survived this, she needed to find her. Maybe she’d reject her with the same look of betrayal in her eyes as when she’d found out she was a mark, but she knew she had to try. After all, when she’d seen Scylla get shot, she’d run to her. She’d cried as Scylla passed out in her arms. That had to mean something, right? Why would she have done that unless she cared?

It was just a shred of hope, but it was all Scylla had.

She closed her eyes, conjuring Raelle’s face in her mind. She needed an apology. She needed to show Raelle just how much she regretted the mistakes she’d made and just how committed she was to being honest with her in the future. And she needed to tell Raelle everything – about Bellweather, Alder, Libba, Porter – all of it.

She’d have plenty of time to think about it, at least.

Abigail had just gotten her breakfast – a bagel with peanut butter and a banana – and sat down at her table with Tally and Raelle when she felt a tap on her shoulder. When she turned to look, she was surprised to see her mother standing over her.

“Mom. I mean, Commander Bellweather. What can I help you with.”

“Take a walk with me.”

In a few minutes, they were in one of the warehouse’s corners, far from everyone else. Abigail watched as her mother scanned the area, presumably making sure nobody could hear what she was about to say.

“You requested that Libba be added to your unit?” she began.

Abigail nodded excitedly. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I didn’t exactly do that, but I did come close. I’ve added her to a unit with Gerit and Adil. They’ll be working in the same area, on the same list of targets that I gave you. You’ll be sharing Dusty’s penthouse.”

“Thank you, Mom. You won’t regret this, I promise. We’ll work through that list –”

“There’s more,” her mother interrupted with a stern expression. “Last night, I caught her snooping around our records in the Command Center. I’m not sure we can trust her. I’m putting her with you because I _do_ trust you. And if she’s as good a hacker as you say she is, who better to be there to keep her in line than Raelle?”

Abigail nodded solemnly.

“Keep a close eye on her. And don’t let her know about your lines of communication with me. Keep track of her comings and goings. Dusty has a security system installed in the penthouse, with cameras and all. It’s in a room locked by a keypad. Are you ready for the code?”

Once again, Abigail nodded.

“7281. In fact, you can use that system to keep track of everyone on yours and Libba’s teams.”

“Who’s leading Libba’s team? It can’t be Libba,” Abigail asked.

“Adil. He’s a responsible young man. I trust him. Have you met him?”

Abigail shook her head.

“Well, I suppose you’ll get to know each other pretty soon. It’s an 11-hour drive from here to D.C. and your groups are sharing a car.” 

Abigail wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, can’t say I’m looking forward to another road trip.”

Her mother just smiled wide and clapped her shoulder. “You’ll be fine. Keep an eye on Libba,” she reminded as she began to walk away.

Abigail sighed as she watched her mother leave. Libba, a threat? Her mother had always been paranoid. After a moment, she shrugged to herself and turned to return to the breakfast that awaited her.

“What was that about?” Tally asked when Abigail returned to her seat with a strange expression. Her mother had looked stern when she’d pulled her away – maybe she’d just been scolded.

“Just giving us some updates. It turns out we’re going to be sharing our penthouse with another unit.”

“Really? Who?” Tally asked excitedly.

“Adil’s unit. With Gerit and, uh, Libba.”

“ _Gerit’s going to be there?_ ” Tally almost squealed. Somehow, though, kept it down to a hushed whisper. She did have _some_ dignity to preserve, after all.

Abigail grinned. “Yes, Gerit will be there.”

“And Libba,” Tally added with a flourish of her eyebrows. She hadn’t missed how the two of them had begun to act around each other. There was obviously something there; now, it was only a matter of time until one of them got up the courage to do something about it. Honestly, it had been developing for weeks now. Tally thought it quite funny how both of them, usually so blunt and quick to shoot their shot with guys, seemed to be reduced to shy glances and covert blushes around each other. It was also sort of adorably, actually.

“And Libba,” Abigail grudgingly confirmed, dipping her head to look down at her food. Tally smiled.

A day and more than 700 miles later, the clown van pulled into the penthouse’s underground parking garage. Raelle watched as everyone lurched out, stretching and groaning. In the 12-hour drive, they’d stopped only once. Abigail had insisted, of course.

Raelle grabbed her suitcase and moved to follow the group towards the elevator. Nobody said anything. They hadn’t even made it into the city until midnight, and from there it had taken them another half hour of navigating to make it to their apartment. Raelle felt especially drained. She’d cried in the backseat a few times, lost in thought about Scylla. Adil, the new guy who’d sat in the back with her, had been gracious enough to not say anything or otherwise get weird about it. She could appreciate that of him.

She couldn’t help but wonder how things could have gone if Scylla had actually been with the Spree, not just an informant for the FBI. If, instead of dead, she could be by her side right now, ambling into the elevator with her. Though she’d be tired, she’d smirk at Raelle. Maybe reach for her hand, just to let their fingers intertwine. Raelle’s chest twinged with a familiar grief.

She hadn’t felt anything this hard since her mom died. It was torturous. The fact that Scylla’s dying act had been to try to arrest her didn’t make anything any easier, either. Every time she grieved Scylla’s death, she also had to manage the wave of guilt and anger she felt at the deception.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened to the penthouse’s darkened interior. Though the lights were off, the room was dimly illuminated by a glow coming from outside. When Raelle moved forward and took a closer look, she realized the glow was coming from city’s skyline. She moved towards the floor-length windows and looked down, letting herself marvel at the lights twinkling below her.

“Whoah,” Tally and Gerit said in unison after joining Raelle at her vantage point. After they did, they looked over at each other with coy smiles.

“Thank you, Dusty,” Abigail gloated. She quickly found the light switch for the wall sconces scattered around the apartment, bathing everything in a warm glow.

The apartment was every bit as nice on the inside as one would expect from a penthouse in D.C., just blocks from the capitol lawn. The floor was black marble, streaked with white crystalline structures. The lighter specks seemed to glint in the light as Raelle walked over them. The windows of the apartment were interspersed with rich, cream-colored curtains. The white walls were punctuated by black and gold metal sculptures.

The living room – if that was what it was – was sunk into the floor like a mini-amphitheater, accessible by a black marble stairway. Cream-colored leather couches were set into the sides of the pit, blending perfectly into the apartment. A gold coffee table, topped with an elaborate gift basket, sat at the center. Raelle couldn’t completely see what it contained, but she thought she saw a bottle of champagne and an assortment of bath and shower luxury items. Behind the amphitheater, in the back corner of the open living space, was a long dining table. Supported by sharp, silver legs, the table itself was an oblong sheet of dark, shimmering glass. At its center was a silver vase full of fresh white roses. High-backed black leather chairs with golden trim surrounded it, completing the picture.

Abigail, seemingly nonplussed by the grandeur of the apartment, continued forward and turned the corner. The rest of the group followed behind her slowly, taking in the apartment with wide eyes. When they rounded the corner, they found her looking through the cabinets and drawers of the kitchen. Like everything else in the apartment, it was sleek, modern, and mostly black and white. Occasional gold accents were the only pops of color in sight.

“Holy shit,” Libba said, capturing what everyone but Abigail seemed to be feeling. “This feels like an ultra-rich villain’s apartment.”

“Dusty’s hardly a villain. A bit of an eccentric rebel, sure. But not a villain,” Abigail scoffed.

“Have you been here before?” Raelle asked.

“Sure, a few times. He’s friends with my parents. I came here when I was younger. Now, come on, I’ll show you the bedroom.”

The bedroom proved just as nice as the rest of the apartment, but also the only bed in the whole area. One massive bed, but still just one bed. Luckily, though, the bedroom had plush carpet. Unfortunately, it was the only carpet in the whole place. Raelle had breathed a sigh in relief when she saw it; she hadn’t been looking forward to sleeping on that marble.

They came to an agreement. They would rotate who slept in the bed, on the bedroom floor, and on the living room couches. Raelle and Adil would get the bed first. Abigail and Libba would get the couches, leaving Tally and Gerit to the bedroom carpet. Once they’d agreed on that, they put their things where they would be sleeping that night.

“Alright! I think I spotted some champagne in that gift basket. What do you say we open it up and celebrate all the work we’re about to do?” Abigail suggested.

Raelle smiled halfheartedly and followed the group into the living room.

“What do you say we go for another late-night walk?”

Libba turned to Abigail in surprise. The words didn’t surprise her, but the fact that Abigail had whispered them into her ear did.

Save for Raelle, they were alone on the couches. Tally and Gerit had left a while ago to sit on the balcony, and Adil had gone to bed early. Raelle hadn’t said much, though. Even now, she was just staring out the windows with a pained expression on her face. She hadn’t paid them any attention in a while now.

Abigail just smiled and stood up, holding out a hand for Libba to take. When she took it, Abigail pulled her up and led her to the elevator. As they passed the elevator threshold, Libba dropped Abigail’s hand and moved away from her to lean against the corner.

Abigail frowned. “What’s up with you?”

“What d’you mean?” Libba asked with a nervous laugh.

“You’re acting all weird. You’ve been acting weird since we left. Did something happen?”

“I --,” Libba began, searching for an answer. She knew exactly what happened; right before they left, she’d realized that she had a massive crush on Abigail. Immediately after that, her mother had caught her trying to spy on the New Americans from the inside. In other words, things had just gotten complicated. Not that either of those were things she’d admit to Abigail. “I don’t know. I guess it just feels like a lot’s changed,” she said instead.

“You’re right,” Abigail smirked. She took a confident step towards her, putting a hand above her head to lean on. “A lot _has_ changed.”

Libba grinned as she realized that Abigail was _flirting_ with her. Though they’d been flirting for most of the time that they knew each other, before it had felt like fake flirting. Like the kind of flirting you do with the intention of getting a rise out of someone. But this? This felt different. This felt like Abigail actually making moves on her. Knowing this, she felt her confidence at least partially restored.

She leaned forward suddenly, stopping when their faces were only inches away from each other. Abigail’s eyes widened and flicked down to Libba’s lips. “Yeah, it has,” she murmured. She drifted forward, nearly letting her lips touch Abigail’s. Just before they did, though, she twirled away under Abigail’s arm. The doors of the elevator opened then and she stepped through, looking back expectantly towards Abigail. She was pleased to see that she looked a bit flustered. She recovered quickly, though.

“I don’t know about you, but I sort of feel like getting drunk tonight,” Abigail suggested with a mischievous smile.

“That sounds like exactly what I need,” Libba laughed. “Are you 21?”

“In the eyes of the law,” she smiled, brandishing what Libba assumed to be a fake ID. “You?”

“Same situation,” she replied. “Sort of funny that we both happened to have our fakes on us.”

“I think we both knew this would happen,” Abigail said, finishing with a dramatic head tilt. “Now come on! The night waits for no one.”

The penthouse, as it turned out, was in a great location for bar hopping. They went to a few dive bars, loading up on cheap drinks and hyping each other up. They finished at a nice bar, filled to the brim with very enthusiastic young people dressed up in sharp clothes. They danced their hearts out, completely giving themselves over to the rhythm of the music and the energy of the crowd.

By the time they stumbled back out onto the street, arm in arm with wild grins on their faces, it was past 3 in the morning. They walked the few blocks back to the penthouse, laughing and talking. They kept their arms joined the whole time.

They parted from each other when they got to the elevator. Libba began dancing, humming along to a song only she could hear. Abigail, for her part, leaned against the elevator doors. When Libba caught sight of her precarious position, she looked at her with wide eyes.

“NO!” she cried before falling into a fit of giggles.

“What’s – whats the problem?” Abigail slurred.

“You can’t _stand_ there!” Libba laughed. She leaned forward to pull her away from the elevator doors by the lapels. Just as she did, though, the doors opened behind Abigail. Libba’s weight leaning backwards was just enough to keep Abigail from falling back completely. Instead, they tumbled into the back of the elevator. They giggled for a moment before seeming to notice the position it had put them in. Abigail was leaned against the back wall, seemingly pinned by Libba’s hands fisted in the material of her shirt. Their faces were only inches apart.

Without thinking, Libba closed the distance. Their lips met in a bruising kiss. One of Abigail’s hand immediately came up to the back of Libba’s head, pulling her even closer. The other fell to her waist in a solid grip. Losing herself to the kiss, Libba brought her own hands up to the sides of Abigail’s neck.

When they finally pulled away from each other, gasping, they broke into another fit of giggles. Libba gave her another peck on the lips after, just to solidify the kiss.

Abigail looked behind her, a quizzical expression on her face. “Shouldn’t we be there by now?”

“We never pressed the button,” Libba laughed. “Top floor, for the _penthouse_ ,” she announced, pressing the button with a dramatic flourish.

“The best for the best,” Abigail agreed before pulling Libba back into her by her waist.

“Isn’t it lucky that we got the first shift on the couches?” Libba laughed. Abigail leaned in towards her lips, but Libba pulled away ever so slightly. She did this for a few seconds before deftly moving her head to the side to lay a kiss on Abigail’s neck. When Abigail gasped, she couldn’t help the small whimper that escaped her.

“So lucky,” Abigail breathed.

When the elevator doors opened, Libba leaned back to pull a dazed Abigail towards the couches. Abigail grinned and followed.

Raelle startled awake from her dream about. She didn’t remember most of it, but she did remember the look on Scylla’s face as she’d died in her arms. She took a deep breath and rubbed at her eyes, trying to shake the image. When she checked her watch, she saw that it was 5:15 am. That meant that last dream had actually been one of the longest stretches of sleep she’d gotten all night, at almost an hour long. With a sigh, she got up from the bed. She was tired of trying to sleep.

Careful to step over Tally’s and Gerit’s sleeping forms, she crept into the kitchen for a glass of water. Once she had it, she stepped out into the living room for a look out the dark windows. She was surprised to see that the lights were still on. After a quick glance around, she could guess why.

“Jesus, Abs,” she muttered, hastily looking away. Abigail and Libba were stretched out on each other on one of the couches. A blanket covered their waists, but it looked like besides that they were completely naked.

Already in a bad mood, she set about brewing a pot of coffee. It took her longer than she would’ve liked; the coffee maker was like a damn spaceship. She’d hoped all the clattering would have awoken Abigail and Libba, but when she looked out to check, her hopes were dashed.

“Wake up, fuckers,” she muttered. She walked over the light switch and began flicking them on and off. She didn’t stop until she saw Abigail start to stir. “I hope you clean that couch before I have to sleep on it!” she called over her shoulder as she walked back to her brewing coffee. She couldn’t help but snicker as she heard them awaken. There was some muttered cursing, followed by a thump as someone fell off the couch, more hushed cursing, and a few muttered apologies.

She took her coffee and left to stand on the balcony to drink her coffee. They could probably use the space.

When she returned a few minutes later to refill her mug, she was relieved to see that they’d both put on clothes. They’d gone right back to sleep, though. 

She brought her fresh cup of coffee up for a sip, enjoying the heat of the mug against her hands and the steam wafting up into her face. Across the room, something caught her eye. As she moved closer to inspect it, she saw that it was a manila envelope on the black dining room table. Walking closer, she recognized it as the folder with the targets the New Americans had assigned to them.

Placing her mug down on the table, she took a seat and opened the folder. After a moment, she picked out Mitch McConnell’s folder. She didn’t know that much about him, but she’d heard Scylla curse him into the ground enough to think he might deserve to be first on her hitlist. Her heart twinged with pain at the memory. She took another sip of coffee to quiet it.

“Good choice.”

Raelle whipped around, shocked to hear that there was someone behind her. “What the fuck?!” she exclaimed. In her rush, some of the coffee spilled onto her chest and the marble floor. She cursed lightly.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to surprise you,” her disruptor apologized. When Raelle looked back up again, she recognized it as Adil. Though they’d met briefly and driven to D.C. in the same car, they hadn’t actually talked yet. Raelle had been distraught and he’d never tried.

Rather than respond to his apology, Raelle just grumbled and stood to dab the coffee out of her shirt. When she returned to the table a few minutes later, she found Adil hunched over a different file from the folder.

“You a hacker?” she asked.

Adil shook his head without looking up. “No. But I hear you are.”

“Not without a computer,” she grumbled. Deciding to delay no more, she went back to the bedroom to retrieve her laptop.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Adil asked after a few minutes of her working wordlessly.

“Maybe put on a goddamn bell or something,” she muttered. He just laughed softly.

She sighed. “Bring me another coffee and wake up the Sleeping Beauties over there. I want to talk to Libba about a plan of attack. We’ve got work to do.”

As exhausted as she was, she wanted to work. After all, this was how she’d managed her grief last time. She knew burying herself in work to try to right the wrong wouldn’t bring Scylla back, but it would still at least make herself feel a little better.

She clenched her jaw and got to work researching her target.

TWO WEEKS LATER

“Come on, Raelle. You need to sleep,” Tally begged. “It’s been two weeks since we’ve been here, and you know how many times you’ve gotten more than like, two hours of sleep?” When Raelle didn’t respond, she answered anyways. “Three times! That is, like, 11 times too few, at least! You need to sleep! Do you know how bad it is for your brain to go without sleep like this? It can permanently damage your moods and personality!”

“What does it matter?!” Raelle snapped, raising her voice. Tally had been trying for a while now to convince her to take a break, but Raelle was just getting more and more frustrated with each attempt.

Tally felt herself getting frustrated, too. It killed her to see Raelle like this. For two weeks, she’d been working herself into the ground. The few times that she had managed to get her to lay down and sleep, she’d woken the apartment up with her screams. When Tally went to try to comfort her, though, she just shook her off and headed back to the little tech-lair she’d set up on the dining room table. Besides that, she’d only ever seen Raelle just pass out on top of her work or in her chair. It was obviously catching up with her; her bloodshot eyes were ringed by deep hollows under her eyes. Her unwashed hair hung limp by her shoulders, greasy and a little rank. She was really only one small step away from looking like an extra in The Walking Dead.

“Don’t make me knock you out,” Tally threatened. “I know Krav Maga now.”

Raelle just glared up at her.

“Raelle,” Adil murmured. As always, he’d just appeared soundlessly behind Tally. He took her by the shoulders, guiding her a few steps away from Raelle. She let him do it, relieved for someone else to be trying their hand at making Raelle take care of herself. Once Tally was out of Raelle’s space, he turned back towards her. Without saying anything, he just laid a gentle hand on her shoulder and looked at her. Tally could guess the look – probably the same calm-but-concerned look he’d used on her to get her to finally back down from a particularly brutal training session with Abigail. Adil was peculiar like that; without actually saying a word, he could say everything you needed to hear.

He held her gaze for a while, unmoving. Raelle just glowered back at him. After almost a minute, though, her face seemed to fall. Her brow furrowed and she brought her hand to her face, hiding her eyes. Tally could only guess that meant she’d started tearing up. Not for the first time, her heart ached for her friend.

“You could use the rest,” Adil finally said. His voice was gentle, melodic. “Just get a few hours of sleep tonight. Tomorrow morning, you can get back to it. You’ll work better with some sleep. Smarter, faster.”

Raelle didn’t move from her position for a few seconds. But when Adil removed his hand from her shoulder and held out his hand, she accepted it and stood up with him. Once she was up, he returned his hand to her shoulder and walked with her to the bedroom.

When he came back a few minutes later, Tally was awestruck. “You even got her into the bedroom.”

“She’s grieving. I’ve seen it before,” he said simply.

Just then, Libba walked up to the dining room table. She looked around, confused. “Where’s Raelle?”

“Adil just got her to go to sleep. In the _bedroom_ ,” Tally filled her in. Libba’s eyes widened.

“Fucking finally. That girl was going to work herself to death,” she said with a shake of her head. “Look, it’s late. I could use a break, too. I’m going out for a walk.”

Tally nodded. “Okay. Yeah. You know, I’ve got another press release plan to work on. Raelle found pictures of Kevin McCarthy with his, you know, thing, out, and some illicit messages to one of his aide staff. I’m thinking a press release to some of the racier tabloids. Maybe some memes, too.”

Adil approached her. “You know what, I think this might deserve something a little flashier.”

Tally frowned. “What do you mean?”

“We’ve been using the standard approaches, the ones that have been set by the mainstream. We’ve been working within the paradigm. But we’re out here to break the paradigm, right? How can we do that by working within it? That means we’re just reinforcing it.”

Gerit, who’d been lying down on the couch reading through a Senator’s text messages, stood up and approached them. “Okay, what are you suggesting?”

Adil smiled mischievously. “I suggest we make our message a little louder. A little more… dangerous.” Tally and Gerit shared a look. “I say we spray paint McCarthy’s dick on a national monument.”

“What! That –” Tally spluttered.

“That would send a message,” Gerit smiled, nodding slowly.

“I think from here on, we need to take a more aggressive tack. And we should go back and do some of the others we did already, like Scalise and Palmer. Remember, it’s not just about discrediting a few Congressmen. It’s about eroding _authority_. Authority is all about the ability to enforce a will. Capitol monuments are symbols of not only that power, but of the respect that power commands over its people. Even if people don’t actually respect those symbols, or even the authority that protects them, there’s no guarantee that there will be a voice for that. And until there is, people will stay quiet. They need leaders.”

“That’s what we came here to do,” Tally said, a smile growing on her face. “Lead.”

“You know what else we should do? Stickers. Like, durable stickers with McCarthy’s actual nude next to a picture of him with someone really important, or dignified, or just kind of respected. And a catchy phrase. I don’t know, something about how he’s not just fucking whores, he’s fucking all of us.”

“Hey,” Tally objected, recoiling at Gerit’s casual use of the word ‘whores.’

“Sorry,” he apologized quickly. “But you know what I mean, right? Something like that. Whatever it is, we can paste those all around the city. Maybe even put a hashtag or something on there to make some waves on social media.”

“#CongressSaysFuckYou?” Tally suggested.

Gerit laughed. “Yeah, exactly like that. Maybe we could keep using that one with the other stuff that comes out. And we should totally still release what we’ve got to established news sources so that people don’t just call it conspiracy theories. Raelle can cover our tracks, right?”

Tally nodded. “Yeah. She even got a fancy new gadget to make it foolproof,” she added, waving vaguely at Raelle’s pile of tech. She hadn’t the faintest idea which one she’d mentioned helped her do that.

“Good. So, we can use that to submit information to the news and respond to their inquiries. While we’re at it, maybe we should also make some burner social media accounts. Twitter, Facebook.”

“All of that is good. It will make this more visible. But I think it’s also important that we begin a campaign of defacing national monuments with the sins of the nation’s guardians.”

“That was weirdly poetic,” Tally laughed. “But yeah. I like it. Um, how do we make sure we don’t get caught?”

Adil shrugged. “Just like any other op. Make a plan, have an out, mask up, run like hell, lay low.”

“Were you in the field unit?” Tally asked with a frown. Gerit looked confused.

“No,” Adil replied, his expression grim. “I was in recruitment. But many of my friends, many of my _recruits_ , were in the field unit. We spoke often. And, not all of their training was from the Spree.” When Tally raised her eyebrows, he smiled sadly. “I kicked up some trouble at Berkeley, back in the day.”

They were silent for a moment, until Gerit erupted into a boyish giggle. “Oh man, I am so excited for this.”

“Well, let’s get to work while Raelle’s asleep. I think it would cheer her up to hear that we have a plan for this. And I think she would like this plan in particular,” Tally said. The boys nodded and went to their laptops around the dining room table. “I’ll cover the releases to the mainstream media. Gerit, how about you make up some posts for the different pages you want to make? We’ll need Raelle’s help to actually make the accounts and post on them, but we can come up with the content before we have that ready.”

Gerit nodded happily. “I have so many ideas.”

“I’ll start coming up with a plan for the different monuments. We should see if there’s one we should use for McCarthy specifically. I can scout them tomorrow. And I heard that Raelle was coming close to something on McConnell?” Adil added.

Tally flashed him a wicked grin. “Yeah, she was getting really close to something. I think once she’s gotten some sleep, it won’t take her long to get it.”

“You guys, what do you think about this as a sticker?” Gerit asked excitedly, holding up a picture he’d clearly just sketched with his pencil. Tally and Adil both leaned forwards, straining to see what it was exactly.

“Get it? Politicks as usual?” Gerit asked with a bubbly pride. When his audience continued to look confused, he sighed dramatically. “Come on, it’s not that hard. See, that’s the city skyline. And that’s a giant tick ravaging it, Godzilla style.” When his point didn’t land yet again, rolled his eyes. “You know? Poli- ticks? Poli, like polis, for city? And then a tick, like the bloodsucking insect that latches onto you and can give you nasty viruses that you can never really get rid of? It’s like, the perfect imagery for politics in America right now. Come on! Can’t you see it?”

“It’s a little… cerebral,” Adil offered. “I’m not sure how well it would land.”

“Maybe if the drawing was a little clearer. The, uh, tick, is a little harder to make out.” Tally suggested.

“Okay, fine. What about this?” Gerit said, scribbling quickly over his sketch. “Now it’s poli-dicks as usual, for you guys.”

Tally and Adil laughed at that. Gerit followed soon after.

“Poli-dicks as usual,” Tally repeated to herself under her breath. Repeating it made her giggle again.

Libba strode down the street, hands in her pockets. She’d walked a few blocks away from the penthouse, trying to get some distance from the people there and anyone from the neighborhood who might see her again. Satisfied with her distance from the apartment, now she was just looking for a quiet alley to slip into. She quickened her stride when she caught sight of a promising gap in the brick buildings around her. A quick glance confirmed the alleyway was clear. Only two doors opened into it, one on each side of the street. She hurried to the center of the alley between the doors and pulled out her phone.

She dialed the number to Anacostia’s burner phone quickly. She’d avoided saving the number in her phone, and over the last two weeks she’d gotten enough practice for it to be almost automatic. Anacostia picked up on the third ring.

“Otter here,” Libba began.

“Queen here,” Anacostia replied. Libba smiled at the codename. She’d picked it out for her, after all.

“Do you have the evidence?”

“It wasn’t easy, but we got it. We will need to lay low for a while after this.” A pause. “I hope you know just what the hell you’re doing. Are you sure we can trust her?”

“I am,” Libba confirmed.

“It will be in the mail tomorrow, to the location we confirmed earlier. We’ll hurry it along.”

Libba paused, feeling the weight of responsibility settle over her shoulders. “Thank you,” she said finally.

“Just make sure it works,” Anacostia finished. She hung up as soon as she was done.

Libba gulped. She wanted to trust Abigail, she really did. She’d just made a gamble that she could. If she was right, this could change everything. But, if she was wrong, she could have just guaranteed federal prison for herself, Anacostia, and Alder. Not only that, but it would mean that Bellweather would remain unchecked until it was too late to stop her.

With a shaky breath, she closed the phone and returned it to her pocket. Tomorrow, she’d tell Abigail everything. She just hoped it would be enough to turn her against her mother.


	14. Scylla's alive?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Libba shares what she knows with Abigail and the group. Faced with the truth, Abigail reckons with one the backbone of her ideas of the world. Scylla gets some unexpected visitors to her makeshift cell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prepare for the fluff, y'all :)
> 
> some songs that inspired this chapter:  
> Gimme a Minute by PVRIS  
> The Warpath by Conner Youngblood

Libba shoved her hands into her pockets. It was still warm from the last time she’d turned it over in her palms, memorizing its shape. She quickened her step, carried along by a nervous energy. Anacostia delivered on her promise to get her hard evidence. Now, it was up to Libba to make it worth something. She was in deep now – Scylla’s and Porter’s deaths had made that clear to her. What she was about to do was dangerous. If Abigail didn’t believe her, or was actually on her mother’s side… she didn’t want to think about it.

She rounded the corner of the block, bringing the penthouse’s building into view. She paused for a moment. For the thousandth time, she ran through her plan of how to break all the truth – the full truth – to the group. She’d get them all in one place, make sure she had their attention. She’d tell them about her connection with Alder, how she’d been called in after the field unit disaster. Then she’d play the video; it spoke for itself. Once that was done, she’d tell them about Project Atum and the actual circumstances of Scylla’s and Porter’s deaths.

Then, she’d cross her fingers and hope that Abigail didn’t offer her up to her mother for execution.

Turns of phrase flew through her mind as she considered the practiced speeches she’d prepared for this moment. Was she really ready for this? Would anyone believe her?

She decided there was no way to really be ready for this. She didn’t quite feel confident, but she thought maybe faking it would help her feel a little better. She charged forward, heading to the apartment.

Raelle hunched over her computer, squinting as she furiously typed what she hoped would be the code that would finally get her past the firewall protecting the server Mitch McConnell ran his email through. Theoretically, it should be public record. In practice, though, less so. She’d been trying for weeks now to solve this surprisingly sophisticated puzzle, with frustratingly little success. She was particularly hopeful this time, though. She had a good feeling about this code.

“Hey guys, I need to talk to you,” Libba said from somewhere across the room. Raelle didn’t look up. She was almost done with this segment; she didn’t want to stop. She had her own job to do.

“Come on, Raelle, you too,” Libba urged. Raelle shook her head dismissively, still glued to the screen in front of her.

“It has to do with Scylla.”

Libba’s words stopped her in her tracks. Her hands stilled over the keyboard, hovering. She looked hesitantly over at Libba. She stood over the living room pit, wringing her hands together. Raelle didn’t think she’d ever seen her look so serious – or worried. When she saw that she had Raelle’s attention, she knit her brows together and waved her towards the couches in the living room pit. Raelle followed, her movements mechanical.

Once everyone was together, Libba pinched the bridge of her nose and shifted her weight uncomfortably. “Alright, I need to tell you guys something. It’s, uh, it’s going to be uncomfortable for everyone.”

“We already know you’re bi, just spit it out,” Gerit joked. It seemed to help Libba relax. She squared up to the group, standing up a little straighter.

“Alright. So, I have this aunt. Not an aunt by blood, but y’know. She had a ranch in Idaho that my mom and I would go to in the summers. Looking back, I think they were, uh. Together.”

Abigail laughed. “Where the hell are you going with this, Swythe?”

“Her name was Sarah Alder.” Abigail quieted. Tally’s eyes widened. Libba just charged ahead.

“So anyways, we know each other. I know that she works with an extreme organization, she knows that I’m an activist. So it goes. Until last summer. She calls me out of nowhere and tells me that she needs my help. She tells me that someone has randomly joined her organization with a ton of resources and assumed power. She says that she doesn’t trust her, and that she’s worried the situation may become dangerous. So, I help her set up a spyware program on her network that will let me see what she sends out.”

“Wait, you’ve been _spying_ on my mom?” Abigail burst out.

“Yeah, I know how it sounds. But you need to hear the whole story, okay?”

Abigail looked like she was about to storm off. Instead, she crossed her arms and leaned back with a stony expression. Raelle returned her attention to Libba. She leaned forward, her stomach clenching uncomfortably. Where was Libba headed with this, and what did it have to do with Scylla?

“A few weeks after I install the spyware, I her send a message that sounded a lot like a command to kill Porter. Uh, for those of you who don’t know, Porter’s a Spree operative. Or, he was.” Libba frowned, looking into the distance for a second. “Anyways, he and Scylla had been meant to run a mission to blow up a fuel distribution center. The hit was called on him right before it was supposed to happen. I gave Alder a heads up, and she saved him. Bellweather sent Abigail out as a replacement, and she ran the mission with Scylla. They got caught, and the next day the Spree field unit was raided by the FBI and then blown to bits.”

Raelle’s breath caught in her throat. Was Scylla right about Bellweather? Was that why she joined the FBI to try to bring the Spree down?

“What, you’re saying my mom ordered a hit on Porter? That she was somehow responsible for what the FBI did?” Abigail blustered.

“I just needed you to know how I got involved. But here. I have a video to show you. After everything happened, Alder got suspicious about Bellweather and wanted to know more. She sent Porter and someone else out to talk to the people she’d worked with before she left to join the New Americans. This is a video testimony of one of her former bosses. Just, watch it.”

Raelle leaned forward, her heart in her throat. Libba pressed play on the video, revealing a white-haired man with a severe face and a pained look. His eyes flicked to something out of frame and he shifted in his seat. After a moment, he took a deep breath and looked directly into the camera.

“My name is Donald James. I am the former Deputy Director of the National Security Administration, and a primary overseer of cyber security operations for the United States Government. Last year, one of my former colleagues, Petra Bellweather, threatened my family and I. She had come under suspicion for some irregularities in her career record. I moved to open an investigation into the allegations. Some of them, made by her former colleagues, were very serious. One of them even accused her of hiring a hit on their boss to get his job. Before I could open the investigation, though, she threatened me with blackmail against my son. He had just been called in for interviews at MIT, and we were all holding our breath for him. Fearing for my son’s wellbeing, I agreed to delay the investigation proceedings. A week later, though, she left the NSA. And she didn’t just leave. She left a shitstorm in her wake. Somehow, I have no idea how, she convinced almost two dozen of some of our best cyber security experts to abandon their jobs and leave with her on some new venture. I’m still not sure what. Anyways, when she left, she released information on deputy directors and Congressional oversight members that left our department reeling. The organizational reshuffling that followed, well. Nobody really wanted to look too deeply into what happened. I suspect that she may have blackmailed some of the remaining leadership into leaving things as they were. She got to me, too. She didn’t release that information on my son, but she did release information about some of my, uh.” The man shifted in his seat before harrumphing quietly. “About some of my personal dealings. It, combined with the general mayhem in the leadership, led to me losing my position.” He paused. “And my family.”

“Are there any final additions you would like to make to your statement on Petra Bellweather?” prodded an off-screen voice. Raelle thought it sounded like a woman. She didn’t recognize it, though.

The man looked back from the off-screen speaker, turning his gaze back directly into the camera. He looked furious now. “Do not trust Petra Bellweather. I don’t know what the hell her motives are, but she is ruthless. Nothing is below her. Honestly, just stay the hell away from her. She’ll ruin you and everything you care about.”

The screen went dark.

Raelle sat back, eyes wide. A horrible feeling had settled deep in her gut. Maybe Scylla had been right about everything, after all. Maybe she’d been trying to keep her from getting involved in something dangerous. Maybe, she’d just been trying to protect her. She needed to check out this Donald James. She needed to know if he was telling the truth.

“What the hell was that?” Abigail raged, standing up. “How do we know that wasn’t coerced? He was obviously looking at someone off camera. Why are you even trying to dig up dirt on my mom in the first place?”

Abigail continued to yell, but Raelle just stood silently and moved to her computer setup. She’d find out the truth for herself.

Abigail stood out on the patio, fuming. Arguing with Libba hadn’t led to much; neither of them had given an inch. Abigail had eventually stormed out to get some air. That, and the satisfaction of a dramatic exit. That left her here, stewing in the cold. She watched her breath coming out in heavy puffs, drifting through the still air. As she watched them, her breath evened out. She inhaled deeply, letting herself notice her surroundings. It was a dim, foggy day; she could only just make out the glow of the city lights below. She’d been out here for a few minutes now and the chill was beginning to seep into her bones. Still, she didn’t want to go back inside yet.

The door opened behind her, drawing her attention. When she looked back, she saw Adil gently sliding the door shut behind him. He made his way to her side, joining her in looking into the overcast skies. He stood there for a while without saying anything, like always. Normally, Abigail found it a little annoying. Right now, though, she was glad for the silence.

“So, what are you thinking?” he finally asked once she’d relaxed into his presence.

She huffed, opening her mouth to respond with the same anger she’d shown Libba. Instead, though, she paused. Standing out here, simmering over what the video had said about her mother, she had to admit that there was a part of her that believed it. That had maybe even _always_ believed that. But then, she’d always buried it under the mountain of evidence her mother showed her to the contrary.

“I…. don’t know.”

“You know, I used to think my parents were perfect.”

Abigail glanced over at Adil, who was still looking resolutely out towards the city. He didn’t respond at all when she looked over.

“The way they’d talked about themselves, it was hard not to. They’d worked hard to build up the savings to move to the United States, to build a better life for themselves and their kids. They sacrificed everything for us. It wasn’t until I was older that I learned that what they’d left behind. _Their_ parents, the ones who had worked so hard to build lives for _them_ , got left behind with nobody there to care for them. They died a few years after we moved here.”

“I’m sorry,” Abigail murmured.

Adil shrugged softly. “They also left their country. It had problems, yes, but problems need people to try to solve them. They just… gave up on that. Not only that, but they immigrated to the very same country who had set many of those problems into motion. They came to benefit from all of the pain they left behind.”

“Did they really have a choice?”

He frowned. “I don’t know. And I can’t honestly say that I wouldn’t have done the same in their position. But the point is that our parents are people. _Complicated_ people. They don’t always show that to their kids, though. They’d rather you see them as a reliable source of authority. Or enjoy your uninformed adoration.”

Abigail remembered the day her mother called her to tell her that she was finally doing something important. Something good for the world. She remembered how proud she’d been of her, and how eager she had been to become a part of it. She’d dropped out of her college classes _that day_ to help her lead the Spree to revolution. That had been more than a year ago.

The possibility that all her mother’s talk of justice and necessity had been little more than an act was almost too terrible to consider. Perhaps that was why she’d never considered it.

It would mean that she’d given up her shot at a normal life, sacrificed more than a year of her life, for what? To help her mom fight for power for herself? To let her mom use her as some sort of pawn in this sick, twisted game of hers?

Adil gave her a solemn nod before turning and heading back inside, leaving Abigail once again alone in the cold with only her growing anger to keep her warm. The more she let herself consider what the video had said, she more convinced she grew that that guy, Donald James, had been telling the truth. After a few minutes, she couldn’t take it any longer and pulled out her burner phone to dial her mom’s number. She didn’t pick up until the second try.

“Hello, darling,” her mother greeted.

“You know a Donald James?” Abigail began.

“I – yes,” she responded. She sounded guarded.

“Did you blackmail him and your colleagues at the NSA before jumping ship to join the Spree?”

“I – well,” she paused. Abigail could almost the gears in her head turning from across the phone line. “I did blackmail some of them, yes. But only to make sure that my team and I could leave in peace.”

“Did you order a hit on Porter?”

Her mother was silent for a moment. “Who told you that?”

“It doesn’t matter. Did you order a hit on Porter? Did you try to have him killed, to send _me_ into that oil distribution center instead, knowing that the FBI was closing in?”

Her mother went silent. Abigail waited almost a minute before giving into her rage, tears pricking at her eyes.

“Did you know they were going to die?!” she almost shouted into the phone. She’d lost friends to the FBI that day. She’d grieved for them. And she’d blamed _Scylla_ for it.

“I have only ever done what is best for the Spree. We have a job to do, after all. One must break a few eggs to make an omelet, after all.”

A tear fell down Abigail’s cheek. Libba had been telling the truth. Her mother was a dishonorable, power-hungry liar. The realization hit her like a battering ram to the chest, knocking the wind right out of her. Everything she’d given up for her mother, and for what? For her mom to kill her friends for power?

“FUCK YOU!” she screamed raggedly into the phone. She had to resist the urge to throw the phone over the balcony railing and down into the streets below.

A part of her ached with the irony of it. Since she had been just a child, her mother had always warned her to beware people and their ulterior motives. Time and time again, she’d directed her to keep her guard up around people lest they take advantage of or hurt her. But then, she’d also always insisted that Abigail could trust her, her mother. She had been the only person she’d let herself trust.

She’d let her guard down.

And she was paying for it.

Raelle looked up from her screen, her research complete. It hadn’t taken long to see that Donald James had once been deputy director of the NSA, that last year the President appointed several new leaders to the NSA following a series of scandals.

Libba’s source was probably telling the truth.

Bellweather was a snake.

Scylla had been right about her.

Raelle shot up from her chair and marched towards Libba, who was pacing in the kitchen.

“Tell me everything,” she demanded, slamming a fist on the countertop.

Libba looked over Raelle’s shoulder, probably to where Abigail was still standing out on the balcony.

“I wanted to wait to tell everyone everything at once –”

“I don’t give a damn. You said this had to do with Scylla. Spit it out already.”

Libba fixed her with a sad expression before giving in to her request. “Scylla definitely wasn’t with the FBI, because she was with Alder and I. So was Porter. We were just trying to figure out more about Bellweather’s plans, because we’re pretty sure she’s about to use a bioweapon on the world. We were trying to stop her. But Scylla and Porter… they got too close.” Libba looked away, her brow furrowed.

Raelle’s heart thumped in her chest like the beat of a war drum. She clenched both fists, scarcely able to contain the fury she felt growing inside of her. “Bellweather killed Scylla?” she uttered.

Libba nodded.

Raelle’s gaze turned to Abigail, who was still standing out on the balcony. She lurched towards her, intent on venting her fury on the daughter of Scylla’s murderer.

“Raelle, no,” Libba called, reaching for her hand to stop her. Raelle ripped it apart, continuing towards the balcony.

She slid the balcony doors open with force, relishing the slam it created. Abigail turned to face her, shocked by her aggression. She backed up when Raelle charged into her space, backing up until she bumped against the metal balcony railing.

“Your mom killed my girlfriend!” Raelle yelled, shoving an accusatory finger up at Abigail’s face. She just looked back at her with wide eyes, shying away from the affront.

“Raelle, come on, she didn’t do it,” Libba urged, wrapping her arms around Raelle to pull her away.

“How much did you know, you dirty fucking liar!” Raelle raged, writhing in an attempt to get out of Libba’s grip. “You’re just like her!” she screamed. Gerit and Tally quickly joined Libba to restrain her and pull her back from Abigail and the balcony railing. Together, the three of them managed to pull Raelle away from Abigail and back inside the penthouse. Raelle screamed and fought them all the way. As they set her down, though, her fury gave way to grief. “You killed her,” she sobbed. Tally put an arm around her shoulder, pulling Raelle into her. Raelle let her, turning into her as a new kind of guilt ripped through her with a renewed energy. Scylla had been telling her the truth, and she’d turned her away. Scylla had said she loved her, and she’d still turned her away.

A few minutes later, Abigail walked back inside. She approached Raelle, kneeling down in front of her. Raelle tensed but otherwise didn’t respond to her.

“I’m sorry about Scylla,” Abigail murmured. It sounded sincere. “I had no idea about any of this until today.” Raelle didn’t say anything, just nodded slightly.

Satisfied, Abigail stood and turned to Libba. “Tell me everything,” she commanded.

“So, when are they going to release the bioweapon?” Gerit asked.

Libba sighed. “I really don’t know. That’s what we were hoping to find out when we tailed Bellweather in Portland. But, well. You know how that turned out.”

Raelle winced. Libba ran a hand through her hair. After Raelle’s little meltdown and Abigail’s apology, she’d finally gotten to tell them everything they needed to know. About the oil distribution center, Project Atum, what happened in Portland, her run-in with Bellweather in Chicago – all of it. Everyone was looking a little wide-eyed and dazed after the onslaught. Libba couldn’t blame them.

“Are we sure Scylla’s dead?” Abigail spoke up. Everyone’s heads snapped towards her.

“What do you mean? I watched her die in my arms,” Raelle responded immediately.

“Well, you saw her lose consciousness. That’s really not that unlikely, given the trauma of a gunshot wound and blood loss. But I saw where she got shot – it was only once and it was in sort of a low-risk region. Even if it did hit something important in her, I doubt it would have killed her in less than a minute. Probably more like a few hours. And, knowing now that my mom is… what she is… I doubt she’d pass up on the chance to work Scylla for information.”

“You mean, torture her?” Raelle asked, her voice breaking.

Abigail nodded grimly. “If she’d been a federal agent, she might have killed her to make sure her intel died with her and to make things as clean as possible. But if she’s just a rogue Spree operative, working with someone she thought she’d killed months ago? She’d want to know more about them. I know she knows doctors that could have stabilized Scylla, even if she was in bad shape. Assuming Scylla hasn’t given anything up, I would bet she’s still alive.”

“What about Porter?” Libba asked.

“I’m not so sure about that. I saw him take two shots to the chest, pretty close to the heart. And I didn’t see him move after he fell. Scylla would have been easier to save.”

“So, what do we do?” Raelle asked, her eyes wide.

Abigail shrugged.

“Your mother killed Scylla to keep her plan, this Project Atum, from getting derailed. Why don’t you threaten to expose her to get Scylla back?” Adil suggested.

“That could work,” Libba nodded. “She might kill someone else for suggesting that, but not you. You are her daughter, after all.

Abigail paused for a moment, considering it. Everyone looked at her in anticipation. In a minute or so, she shrugged and clapped her hands against her thighs. “Fuck it. I’m going to do it. Once we have Scylla back, though, we need to think of a way to take the Spree back.”

Libba smiled as she watched her leave for the balcony. She couldn’t deny the twinge of pride she felt. Or maybe something else. She wasn’t sure, but she didn’t want to examine it. She wasn’t ready to deal with anything more than a crush on Abigail right now.

Abigail returned from the balcony a few minutes later with a cautiously excited look on her face.

“Scylla’s alive and in Chicago. I told her we’d be there tomorrow at noon to pick her up and bring her back with us.”

_Scylla’s alive?_

For the first time since the Portland incident more than two weeks ago, Libba felt a spark of real hope. Maybe they had a chance to stop Bellweather, after all.

“We’re almost there. Only another ten minutes or so,” Tally said brightly, casting an excited glance back towards Raelle.

After almost 12 hours of non-stop driving, they were finally about to see Scylla. Almost exactly where they’d been two weeks earlier when they’d moved through headquarters. When Raelle’s wounds were still fresh, after having just watched Scylla die in her arms…

The prospect of seeing Scylla again hadn’t felt real until exactly that moment. A part of Raelle had been afraid to believe that she was still alive; she didn’t want to get her hopes up only to be left with the same crushing despair her death had left in its wake last time. But now, just minutes away from seeing her again, Raelle felt a black pit of anxiety open up in her gut.

How could Scylla ever forgive her after what happened? She’d warned her about the Spree, but she’d ignored her and joined anyways. Now, here they were: Raelle, in over her head, and Scylla, shot and tortured. Not to mention that in their last actual conversation, Scylla had told her she loved her – and she’d just walked away. How the hell could they move on from all of that? How could Scylla? She had no idea.

And yet, as impossible and fucked up as the whole situation was, Raelle wanted to hold her in her arms again. She wanted it more than she’d ever wanted anything before. What if she’d already missed her chance? What if Scylla never wanted anything to do with her after all the pain she’d caused her?

“You guys… I fucked up with Scylla. I thought she was lying to me. I pushed her away. I –” Raelle’s pain cut her off before she could finish, clawing at her throat and pushing against her eyes. She looked down, trying to blink the tears of guilt and regret away.

Tally turned around in the front passenger seat to lay a comforting hand on Raelle’s knee. “I’m sure she’ll understand. She wasn’t telling you the whole truth, after all. How could you know?”

Raelle sniffed. “What if she can’t forgive me? What if what I did is unforgivable?”

“Raelle,” Tally urged, giving her knee a slight squeeze. When Raelle looked up, Tally met her gaze with a fierce expression. “She will understand. I’ve seen how you two look at each other. I’m sure she’s just as upset with how she acted as you are. You’ll talk about it, and you’ll work it out.”

Raelle nodded hollowly, her heart beating frantically in her chest. The reassurance did make her feel a little better. Her excitement at the prospect of seeing Scylla again – if things went well – began to rival her anxiety that she’d be rejected. Soon, it had overtaken it. After all, even if Scylla did reject her and tell her she never wanted to see her again, at least Raelle would have gotten to see her face again and apologize for what happened. Seeing her one more time was miles better than thinking she’d died two weeks ago.

Abigail finally pulled the car to a stop in an industrial-looking parking lot. Raelle lurched out immediately, scanning her surroundings for any sight of Scylla.

“Hold on. She gave me this number to call when we got here,” Abigail said, stepping out and pulling out her flip phone. After a brief conversation, she nodded towards what looked like an office building across from them.

The three of them moved to approach it. A few seconds later, one of the building’s rusted metal doors swung inwards. A woman with dark hair and sharp features stood at the entry, watching them from the shadows of the doorway.

“That’ll be Izadora.” Abigail said under her breath.

“Who is she? Why is she with Scylla?” Raelle asked, the worry plain in her voice.

“She’s a doctor. I’ve actually known her for a while. She was a surgeon once. But she got a little too experimental, so she lost her practice and her license. At least, that’s what my mom told me. So, who the hell knows what actually happened.”

Raelle relaxed a little. At least she wasn’t the one who’d been torturing Scylla. Or maybe she had? Or maybe they hadn’t tortured Scylla at all. In any case, Scylla must not have told them anything; Libba’s continued presence with the team in D.C. spoke to that.

Once they’d reached the door, Izadora stepped aside to let them pass before leading them down the hallway. She stopped in front of a door, taking a key from her pocket to unlock it. Raelle held her breath when she pushed the door open. She made sure she was the first through the door.

It looked like a storage closet. She barely registered that, though. Her eyes went straight to the gurney occupied gurney in the middle. She immediately recognized Scylla’s dark hair and square jaw, but she was disturbed by how still she looked. For a terrible moment, Raelle thought all of this had been just an elaborate setup, that it was Scylla’s dead body lying on that gurney. Luckily, though, that thought was dispelled when Scylla moved her head to the side, as though dreaming.

Raelle walked towards her, in a trance. She reached towards Scylla’s hand, gently grazing it with her fingertips. Scylla’s hand responded to the touch with a flinch. Raelle’s heart ached at the reaction, but she didn’t move. A moment later, her eyes snapped open. They darted around the room before settling on Raelle. Her eyes widened as she recognized her.

“Are you real?” she whispered.

Raelle took her hand in hers, offering a teary smile. “I am.”

Izadora stepped past Raelle, moving to the opposite side of Scylla’s bed. She retrieved another set of keys from her pockets and set about unlocking the cuffs on Scylla’s wrist.

“You’re letting me go?” she asked in wonder, flexing her arm as soon as the handcuff was undone.

“Yes,” Izadora replied curtly. “You’ll be going back with these three.”

Scylla looked back towards Raelle. Her expression quickly fell, though. “Raelle. I’m so sorry. I should have told you the truth –”

“No,” Raelle interjected firmly. She took Scylla’s hand with both of hers, her brows knitting together. “I’m the one that should have apologized. If I’d have just listened to you –”

“Excuse me,” Izadora interjected, looking vaguely annoyed. Raelle nodded and stepped away from Scylla’s bedside, letting her pass.

Izadora made quick work of the handcuffs, pulling them off the gurney and stepping aside.

“Alright. Up,” she commanded Scylla, nodding towards the door.

“Thank you _ever_ so much for the hospitality,” Scylla told her, smiling too sweetly. It made Raelle smile. She moved towards her, letting Scylla put an arm around her shoulders to support her. When Scylla took a step forward with a slight limp, she looked over at Raelle with a small smile. Her stomach fluttered.

As soon as Scylla was up from the bed, Izadora moved to retrieve the gurney and nodded towards the door. “Alright. Everyone out. I’ve got somewhere else to be.

“All the bedside manner of a drill sergeant,” Scylla said.

Izadora rolled her eyes. “You’re welcome for saving your life. Next time, don’t get shot.”

The group shuffled out, Scylla leaning heavily on Raelle.

“Thank you for getting me out of there,” Scylla whispered once they’d gotten out of the building.

Raelle smiled. “You’re welcome. It wasn’t actually me who got you out, though. It was her.” She nodded towards Abigail, who was leading the way a few paces ahead of them.

“Abigail?” Scylla asked in shock.

“Yep,” Raelle confirmed. “Once Libba told her about everything her mom had done, what’s she’s planning on doing, she called her. She was the one who thought you might still be alive. Without her, I would’ve had no idea that you were. Let alone have known to come here to break you out.”

“You thought I was dead?”

“Yeah. For more than two weeks now. So, uh, don’t you go actually dyin’ on me now. That was _not_ fun.” Raelle laughed a little, uneasy from the tension.

“Raelle,” Scylla said, pulling them to a stop. She pivoted on her good leg until they were face-to-face. Once their faces were so close, she seemed to break down. She pulled Raelle’s face towards hers, resting their foreheads together. Raelle’s automatically wrapped her arms around her waist. She felt her heart loosen in her chest when she did, coming to life the way it always had with Scylla.

“I never thought I’d see you again,” she breathed, clenching her fingers in the back of Scylla’s shirt. Scylla just sobbed softly in response, tightening her grip on the back of Raelle’s neck.

Raelle pulled her face away to look at Scylla. “I know we have a lot we need to talk about. But,” she stopped, choking back emotion. “I love you too.”

Scylla closed the distance between them, meeting Raelle’s lips in a desperate kiss. Raelle leaned into it, the weight of her feelings for Scylla crashing over her all over again. She pulled away only to breathe and to pull Scylla into her for a full embrace. Raelle never wanted to let her go again.

“Look, guys, I know that this is a loaded moment or whatever, but we’re about to have 12 hours in the car together. So, let’s go,” Abigail interrupted.

They ignored her. When she cleared her throat loudly a few seconds later, though, they finally pulled back, each wearing small smiles.

“Could we stop for some food?” Scylla asked, turning to address Abigail. “I think they were literally starving me in there. Apparently, I’ve been there for more than two weeks.”

Abigail smiled grimly. “Sure. I’ll buy you a slice of Chicago pizza. Your favorite thing out here, if I recall.”

“Excellent,” Scylla smiled. She turned towards Raelle again, pulling her in for another kiss by her chin. She leaned in for another hug afterwards that Raelle gladly returned. Abigail audibly groaned and got into the car, but Raelle didn’t care. All she cared about was the girl in her arms, the girl she loved.

Nearly two hours after she’d awoken to Raelle’s face above hers, Scylla sat leaned against Raelle’s shoulder in a van headed to Washington D.C. After picking her up, they’d gone straight to a pizza place. There, they’d updated her on everything that had happened in the two weeks she’d spent getting tortured in a storage closet. After being fed only about a third of the time, the Chicagoan deep dish pizza had been good – really good. Still, it didn’t compare to the feeling in her chest as the sat next to Raelle, settled in for a road trip.

She was relaxed in a way she hadn’t been since their fallout. She smiled down at their hands – laced together and resting on her thigh. She sighed happily, bringing their hands up to her face to kiss gently. Raelle, in response, pressed a firm kiss to the top of her head. She nuzzled into her, wanting to feel even closer to her.

Abigail unexpectedly turned down the music, letting the car fall silent save for the sounds of the highway. “There’s just one thing I don’t get,” she said. “It was so easy to get Scylla back. Not only did my mom not put up any fight in handing you over, but she even volunteered that you were alive. She could have avoided some trouble with us by just saying that you were dead. I mean, we believed it before.” Abigail glanced up into the rearview mirror, catching sight of Scylla and Raelle. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Scylla replied lightly. She was too busy enjoying her freedom with Raelle to take much offense to anything right now.

“That is a little weird,” Tally agreed. She frowned and pulled out her phone, beginning to type furiously.

“I could care less,” Raelle whispered into Scylla’s ear. “I’m just glad to have you back.”

Scylla reached across her body to lay a hand on Raelle’s other thigh, ignoring the protest of her gunshot wound. She looked up at Raelle, smiling sweetly. “Have I ever told you I love you?”

Raelle smiled down and leaned down to lay a kiss against her lips.

“Oh, my God,” Tally said in breathless horror as they pulled apart. Scylla squinted towards her. She was hunched over her phone, her hand over her mouth. Her eyes were wide.

“What?” Abigail asked. Tally said nothing. Abigail repeated the question with more urgency.

“Frederick, Maryland is reporting a few dozen instances of a mysterious illness. It looks like it started two days ago. One person has died already.”

Scylla’s heart sank.

“Maybe it wasn’t her. Maybe it was just a bioweapon leak. I mean, that’s where Fort Detrick is, and they’ve been doing bioweapons testing there for decades. Plus, I bet they have good quarantine protocols in place,” Tally pleaded.

“That’s where I’d do it.” Abigail sounded grim. Scylla understood why.

“We’re too late,” Raelle murmured.

“Buckle up, buttercups,” Abigail sighed.

Scylla looked out the window at the lights flashing of the highway flashing past them.

Bellweather had already successfully upended her life, stopping just short of killing her. Now, the whole world was going to feel that. She only hoped that it would least result in something better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> our lil bb necro finally got some good news. hope y'all liked the chapter. as always, your comments give me life <3

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it :) There's a lot to unpack with the story arc I have in mind, so buckle up creampuffs! Updated sporadically. I'm on tumblr @cyanidecity if you want to drop by.


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